Counting Bodies Like Sheep
by sachi-sama
Summary: Death is British, life is American, and somehow, love is both. UKUS.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello, new fandom! For all of you who don't know me, I'm Sachi! Nice to meet you! Until recently, I've been too obsessed with Durarara! to write for anything else. This idea hit me like a ton of bricks for a Hetalia story though, so of course I have to go with it! My love of anime meets my love of history! I have no chance! So, I'm writing a UKUS story. It'll be a little different, but I think you'll all like it! So, let's get started, shall we?_

_**Disclaimer: **__I don't own Hetalia, or any of the characters. Nor do I own the song 'Counting Bodies Like Sheep' by A Perfect Circle, which is where the title came from. So, on with the story!_

* * *

_Counting Bodies Like Sheep_

_(A Perfect Circle)_

_[Don't fret precious, I'm here. Step away from the window. Go back to sleep. Safe from pain, and truth, and choice, and other poison devils. See, they don't give a fuck about you. Like I do...]_

The full moon illuminates the tiny hospital room. It's the only light in the room, aside from a flickering bulb in the far corner. The tiny space is horribly empty. Well, almost empty.

But it'll be entirely desolate in a matter of moments.

A dark shadow looms from outside, brought forth from the blackness of the unforgiving nightfall. There is only one reason this shadow is called forth. The reason is simple.

Once this shadow looms over you, death will be the next thing experienced.

The dark silhouette stands over the feeble man in the hospital bed. There is faint beeping from the machine beside him, but it'll be a straight _beeeeeeeeeeep_ in a second. The shadow observes his newest victim brought from the war.

Ever since _another _great war broke out in the world of the living, the poor shadow of the night had found his schedule packed solid. Ah, but we should introduce him, no? It's _dreadful _manners to keep calling him a shadow. His name is now Death, even if it wasn't always. And Death will have your utmost respect, thank you very much.

He peers at the poor unfortunate man from under his hood. The blonde in the bed is breathing feebly, his entire lower half covered in bandages that are slowly being consumed by red. So that's how this man will die. He's going to bleed to death from old wounds.

Ah, what a waste of a death.

Sighing, Death reaches out to touch the young man, about to grant him his early demise from the world of the living. Fate has a way of teaching _everyone _a lesson though, and this can include beings in every dimension.

"You're here to take him, aren't you?" a quiet voice asks from behind him. Death whirls around, shocked at the lack of presence in the room. Shouldn't he have _sensed _another being here with him? More importantly, can he really _see _him?!

Death finds himself staring into a bright pair of ocean eyes. The owner's face is round and almost innocent, eerily similar to that of the man dying in the bed. He has sandy blonde hair, wildly arranged in locks that seem to frame his face. He has a _cowlick _for God's sake! A _cowlick!_ How utterly childish could this being be?!

"Well? Is that why you're here?" he speaks again.

Death finds himself at a loss for words. It's been so long since he's used his voice! He's never really had to. No one has ever been able to see him before.

"Can I...say goodbye to him first?"

Death nods curtly, stepping aside from the hospital bed to allow the blonde to loom over the man that almost shares his face.

"Well... I, uh... I never thought I'd lose my younger brother... Wait, no, that's corny as hell... Okay, I got it! Only you could have joined the Navy and found a way to get blown up before your Army bro! Ahahaha!"

Death feels himself dumbfounded.

"Yeah, you know, because I thought you were too chicken shit to actually die before me... Did you know they're calling you a hero? They're... They're saying you tried to help your roommate escape... I thought it was so _unlike _you to do that, yet so like you at the same time..."

Death observes the man next to him. The ocean blue eyes are fierce as they look upon the man in the bed.

"You remember how you always felt so unnoticed? Well... I'm sure you'll be noticed now. More than me even! It's unheard of! Mattie, I can't believe you're going to be known as the hero in our family! It's a disgrace because you were born in _Canada_!"

...What the bloody hell did that have to do with anything?

"President Roosevelt declared war this morning after the attack. Germany will probably declare war on us since we're at war with Japan. So I guess America is officially involved in World War II..."

So that's what the humans were calling this one? The last one was called 'The Great War', but Death assumes that war must have been the first World War now. Silly humans. As if naming the bloodshed makes it any more bearable.

"I swear, I'll get those bastards for this! I swear! You can always count on your big brother! I know... I wasn't always there for you when you needed me... I'm sorry for that. I hope you always knew that I loved you. We never said it because that's totally weird and stuff, but... You know..."

What an awkward conversation to be the witness of.

"I'll see you again though. One day. Haha, unless people born in Canada automatically go to Hell or something!"

...Seriously? Is this really the blonde idiot's goodbye to his brother? This just _won't _do!

"Oi, you're acting like you're going to see him tomorrow! He's dying tonight, you idiot!"

The blonde looks up at the shadow looming behind him, not an ounce of fear on his face.

"So, Death is British? Who knew?" he laughs.

"...Wanker..."

"To answer your little interruption, this is how we always talked. It'd be weird to change it now. What's the point? He can't hear me anyway."

"And if he could? Wouldn't you rather him die knowing your feelings?"

"Dude, gay."

"_Gay_?! He's your brother, you twit!"

"I'm getting a lecture from Death! This must be an epic moment in my life!"

The shadow removes his hood, greeting the wide blue eyes with his own emerald ones. His hair is an ever lighter shade than the American's.

"Is that all you have to say to him? Because if it is, I'll be taking him now," Death says irritably.

"No! No, just... Dammit, I'm not good at this!"

The sandy blonde kneels beside the bed once more and observes his younger brother. Hesitantly, his lips brush the other man's forehead, then he recoils and stands beside Death.

"I love you, brother. May we meet again someday."

"Now _that's _more like it!" Death says, pleased for once that this man actually acted like most humans would.

"Kick lots of ass in Heaven!"

...Or maybe not...

Cursing his fate, Death reaches toward the bed and touches the feverish man's chest, feeling the heart stop instantly under his touch. He reaches his list and crosses out the first name.

_Matthew Williams, Deceased._

Death pulls his hood back over his head and turns to leave, but is pulled back by a slight tugging on his arm.

"W-Wait... Aren't you going to tell me why Death is a limey? I- I deserve some sort of...explanation..."

The American's voice cracks barely audible over the steady _beeeeeeeeeeeeep _that has filled the room. The nurses will be in there in a few moments. It's not a good time to play 20 Questions.

However, something in the young man's face stops him from leaving. He simply allows himself to be held around the wrist.

"Maybe later... How are you touching me anyway? How can you even _see _me? Are you not human?"

Ah, so 20 Questions has begun after all.

"Heh... Maybe later~."

Cheeky little bastard!

"Well, I really must be going now. You know, things to do, people to kill," Death says, trying to jerk his wrist away from the other man. His attempt is in vain however, because this American is _strong_!

Footsteps are heard down the hallway.

"R-Really! If you don't let me go, they'll all think you're insane! No one else will be able to see me!"

The sandy blonde looks at his shoes, then back up into the hooded face.

"My name is Alfred Jones. I'm a Private in the United States Army, and I'll be shipping out soon to fight the Axis powers. I'm a hero, you know!"

Death is flabbergasted.

"So... You'll find me again, won't you? We can talk again?"

"Seriously? Most people _avoid _Death!"

"I'm not most people."

And as the room fills with nurses that try to revive an already dead man, and the grip on his wrist loosens enough for him to fade into the blackness, he can't help but agree wholeheartedly with the mystery man.

He's never met a human like Alfred Jones.

_[I'll be the one to protect you from your enemies and all your demons_

_I'll be the one to protect you from a will to survive and a voice of reason_

_I'll be the one to protect you from your enemies and your choices son _

_They're one in the same, I must isolate you…_

_Isolate and save you from yourself …]_

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_Sachi: So that's chapter 1~! I'm sure you all have questions for me, and for those of you who don't know, I reply to all reviews in the next chapter! Thanks for reading! _


	2. Chapter 2

_Time for chapter 2, my lovelies! Ah, sorry, my Durarara! fandom is very adamant about me updating, so I haven't been able to write for this story until now. Thank you for your patience! Ah, most of you said this is 'different'. Indeed, it is! I try to make my stories different! I've been watching Hetalia so much lately that I'm getting the characters down flat. Haha, the other day I went with my sister and my little niece to an Italian restaurant, and my niece didn't want to eat. I was like, "Oh, you don't want to eat your pastaaaaaaaaaaa~?" in my best Italy voice. She laughed her head off at me. Enough about that though. __Fynniona__, ah, glad you like it! I can't give it away just yet, but I'll explain it all in due time! __Kats With Shamrocks__, I enjoy the word 'different'! Thank you! __Izaya-neko__, ahhhh, a familiar name! I loved your reviews for my DRRR! stories, and I'm glad you're here with me! You're a Russia cosplayer? Hmmm, I'm thinking of fun I could have with that. (I want to be an America cosplayer, since I'm already blonde and have an unruly cowlick that I can't get to go away...) Much love to all who are reading! On with the story!_

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_Say This Sooner_

_(The Almost)_

_[I can't believe I didn't say this sooner... I'll just believe that I was all displaced. I'll get to speaking, let you know how I feel. I'll get to judging make you see my appeal.]_

December 11th, 1941.

As it turns out, the young American soldier was right. Almost immediately after the attack on the American Naval Base at Pearl Harbor caused the U.S. to declare war on Japan, a man named Hitler declared war on America.

Of course Death could really care less about the humans and their trivial affairs. What was the point of wiping each other out? What were they fighting for? It's not like it'll change anything. The world doesn't need more bloodshed.

_"I'm a hero, you know!"_

The young blonde's face is still in his head. Never before has a mere mortal resonated so much with Death. How was he so...confident? Death hadn't been involved much with world affairs, aside from those involving his own country. He knew all about the first Great War, and he knew it ended with Germany's defeat.

About the time he stopped paying attention is when all hell seemed to break loose on the surface. A man named Adolf Hitler had come to power, and he definitely held a grudge against the rest of the world for Germany's defeat. Somehow he and a few others created an entire _party _of people who seemed to share his view of hate, and now they were in charge of most of Germany. It's only a matter of time before the Nazi's have control over the German army entirely.

Humans and their drama.

Of course, at one time, Death himself was very much involved in these matters that now seem so...trivial. That was another lifetime ago now. It might as well have never happened.

In any case, he's _much _more interested in Alfred Jones's story. It's not like he's _stalking _or anything. No, no. He's simply researching mortals that catch his interest. That's the major upper hand every Englishman has on the rest of the world! Great Britain is simply marvelous at gathering information on others!

Of course he doesn't have any information on anyone else right now...

Shut up.

It's not as though he has time to look into Alfred's life anyway. This war in the world of the living has made him dreadfully busy. It's as though all they focus on is killing one another! In one single night not too long ago, he had to take 33,771 Jewish souls. It was in Kiev, and it was the first glimpse he had of how much these Nazi's truly hated Jewish people.

One might argue that everything before that would be a prelude to such a thing, seeing as how Hitler basically told the world what he was going to do in his autobiography _Mein Kampf_, but like the rest of the world, Death didn't take such things too seriously.

Then, only a few days ago, he had to take all the American souls from the Pearl Harbor Naval Base, including one Matthew Williams, AKA, Alfred Jones's little brother. Since then, he's had to continuously visit that site to take other souls that have been hanging on for a little bit longer. Each time he's gone, he's looked for Private Jones. Out of curiosity, really!

It's just... How could a mere human give off no human presence? How could he see Death? More importantly, how the hell was he able to _touch_ Death and not die?! He wasn't even afraid! No, no, no... Something is _definitely _up with Private Jones.

And Death, being the belligerent Englishman he is, intends to find out what the human is hiding.

The only problem is finding the bloody fool.

As said, he doesn't give off much of a presence. Every human with a beating heart has a sort of...air about them. It's easy for beings, such as Death, to sense and locate them. Humans that are dead also have an air, but a different one entirely. No, it's more like seeing a frazzled thread that needs to be cut hanging in front of your face. That's how Death sees it.

Alfred Jones gives off neither vibe. His is a different sense in every way, and it's confounding to the point of being infuriating.

Tonight, Death is in the hospital on the Naval Base again. This time, he's taking the life of an older man that had inhaled too much smoke in addition to blunt force trauma on his head. His entire skull is wrapped in bandages, and he's beginning to bleed profusely through them.

Sighing once more at his fate, Death places his hand over the feebly beating heart and ceases its struggles. One last breath is uttered from the damned, then his life is no more. Death turns to leave the room after marking the name in his list, and is faced with Private Jones once more.

"Wha... YOU!" he almost shouts to the young man. Alfred cracks a grin and tugs his arm, leading him from the room before the nurses can stop their conversation like before. Death finds himself pulled into an empty hospital room, no lights on at all aside from the waning moonlight through the blinds.

He can make out the young man's features. This poor soul can't be more than 20 years old. His face is round and utterly..._adorable_. His wide blue eyes are full of interest and mischief. It's not a combination Death is eager to like, but he's intrigued nonetheless.

"Long time no see!" the American whispers like they're having a slumber party. Death stares at him incredulously, not sure how to respond to such a warm greeting.

"Erm...indeed..." he replies.

"Dude, lose the hood. It's weirding me out."

Complying, Death removes his cover, and stares expectantly at the other.

"You know, I've gotta say, I never pictured that Death would look so...British."

"You imbecile! How does one _look _British? I'm not even wearing anything from my home!"

Alfred stifles a laugh, his eyes closing in pure mirth.

"Oh, man! You're better than comic books!"

Death glares at him, but chooses not to comment. It's beneath him to argue with a mere mortal. Alfred ceases his laughter and meets his gaze head on, the crystal blue depths boring into his own.

"So what's your story anyway? I mean, why are you a limey?" he asks innocently.

"That's an offensive term, you git. I'm British."

"...Okay, _British _then. Don't get your panties in a twist."

"To answer your question, it's because I was born in England. I don't see any other way to answer it."

Alfred cocks his head to the side.

"No, I mean... Wait, you were _born_? Whoa, I'm way lost now. I thought you were kinda...always alive," he says.

Death runs a hand through his yellow hair in irritation.

"Yes, I was born. A very, very, _very _long time ago. The point is that who I used to be isn't important anymore. I'm the guardian of souls now, and that's all that matters."

"Boring!"

"What about you, hmmm? How are you able to see me?"

The American looks at him as if this answer is completely obvious.

"Eh? I've _always _been able to see you! Well, not in person. I guess... It's hard to explain..."

"Well, there's a _marvelous _invention called talking. You might try it sometime. You'd see it's wonderful for explaining things," Death says scathingly.

"Are you being sarcastic? You must not want an answer then," Alfred replies. The two stare at each other for a moment, then the Englishman concedes.

"I do want an answer."

"Alright then. I've always been able to...see spirits I guess..."

"Spirits?"

"Ghosts."

Death raises his eyebrows in surprise. He's heard of human's having this ability, but has never witnessed it himself. He's _never _heard of a mortal being able to see Death himself though.

"You see spirits?"

"Yup."

"That's...rather impressive. Most humans lose that ability after they get older. Could your younger brother see them too?"

"Mattie? Nah. He was...um... Well, to put it as nicely as I can, he was a pussy."

Death almost falls over.

"He's _dead!_ It's not polite to speak ill of the dead!"

"Why? It's not like he'll hear me. Mattie moved on already. I'd know if he didn't," Alfred says dismissively. "Besides, I said that to his face tons of times. He knows it."

"Either way, it's horribly _rude_."

"Oh, man, you _must _be from another time!" Alfred laughs.

"I already said I was. I actually have a question for you. Why did he have a different last name than you if he's your brother?"

"Oh, that. We have different dads. After mom had me, she left my dad and we went to Canada for a little while. That's where she met her new husband, and then had Mattie not long after."

"What made him join the Navy?"

"He said he liked water or something. I don't know, to be honest. I guess he just wanted to do something different from me. He was always feeling like he was in my shadow, you know? So my guess is, after I joined the Army, he wanted to do something different from me."

"I see. What made you willingly join the Army? Your country just got out of a horrid war already."

"I know that. I just wanted to help out. I knew it was only a matter of time before we got involved in this second war. Have you heard about what's happening overseas? The Germans invaded your country too!" Alfred says indignantly.

"I know that. They also bombed it mercilessly."

"You seem _way _calm about that, dude."

"British people are amazingly adaptable. They will have no problem waiting the Germans out. Your country is similar. Probably because you were once part of Great Britain."

"Psh, yeah, centuries ago. Who cares now?"

"It's bloody _history_! It's important!"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm glad I found you anyway. I wanted to talk to you again!"

Death stares at the man like he's lost whatever small brain he might have ever had.

"You're the only one I actually like talking to around here. Everyone else is kinda boring."

"You _are _aware that you're not supposed to be able to talk to me? I shouldn't talk to you either. It's entirely unorthodox," Death says.

"That's why it's fun!"

Shaking his head in slight disbelief, Death checks his list. He's already late for his next appointment. He looks up to see Alfred watching him sadly.

"You're leaving again, aren't you?" he asks.

"Yes, I've been given another name. It's inevitable in this war."

"When will I see you again?"

"Well, that's rather difficult to say, since I can't seem to sense you."

Alfred cocks a brow.

"Really? I can sense you just fine! Ah, I'll be leaving soon enough. I've only been here this long because Mattie just died and my parents are here making arrangements. Don't worry, I'll find you. I'll be in the middle of combat, so I'm sure it'll be easy."

"What... What's up with you? You're so...confident..."

"Heroes are always confident! Besides, don't you want to see me again?" Alfred smiles widely at him, holding out his hand. Death observes it wistfully, wondering what he's getting himself into. Hesitantly, he reaches out to shake the young American's hand.

Instantly, he feels a spark where they're touching. The tingling spreads through him, and soon enough he can feel the other's presence in the room for the first time. It's...warm. Like standing near a campfire.

"What _are _you...?"

"Heh. I've already told you. Now, it's _my _turn to ask you a question. What's your real name?"

Death smiles fondly at him. It's been _so _long since anyone has asked him that.

"Arthur. Arthur Kirkland."

"Well, Arthur, I'll be waiting to see you again!"

And as soon as he appeared, Death fades into darkness once more, the smile still gracing his face for the first time in ages.

_[No one will ever see things the way I do. No one will try. All my friends think that I'm gone, but I swear, I swear I'm not. I swear I'm not.]_

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_Sachi: We're making progress! History is my favorite subject, so I'm really well informed about WWII. It was my best topic in school! I was in Honors US History, and I think it may have been the only class I paid attention in..._

_ America: I'm excited that I get to be in a new story! Will I have more lines than Britain?!_

_ Britain: Do NOT give that idiot more lines than me! It's unfair!_

_ Sachi: *sigh* I have to deal with this all the time... Anyway, review for love! Until next time!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Ahhh, more reviews! I was actually preparing myself for not getting many at all. Usually, it takes a while to get feedback when you're entering a new fandom. Of course, some of my faithfuls followed me, but I also have new people to love! Much thanks to all who are bearing with me! To answer some of you, I have NO clue where I'm going with this. I never plan my writing out, it just happens. So, we'll discover my plan together! And if you have any ideas with where I'm going, please tell me, because I don't know. With that said, let's get on with the love! __Fynniona__, I love adding the history! Like I said, WWII was my best topic in school. You think the conversations are funny? Ah, thank you! I've been trying to keep them in character! Al is easy, but Arthur is a little tricky, since I'm not British. __jjjanimefan1__, thank you so much! I've been wracking my brains to figure out their conversations! __Kats With Shamrocks__, hmm, no I haven't read that one. It sounds really interesting though, so I'll look it up next time I go to Barnes & Noble! Thanks for the recommendation, because I'm ALWAYS looking for new things to read! With that being said, let me recommend a book to you to return the favor! '__Invisible Monsters' __by Chuck Palahniuk is the most recent book I've read and fallen in love with. I'd recommend it to anyone, especially if you enjoy dark comedy like me! I'm glad you liked the chapter! __Ganne200__, ahhh, hello to you! I totally know you from DRRR! You think it's weird and original, huh? That's what I always aim for! I love you! Thanks for joining me in Hetalia! __Casey Hence__, yay, I got the stamp of approval! Much love to you! __Izaya-neko__, awww, thanks so much! I am psychic! Or psycho...I forget which. Wait, I just remembered that you're the reviewer that threatened to kidnap me in one of my other stories... If that offer still stands, I still require my green Monster energy drinks! Thanks again for joining me! Enough of my rambles! (Trust me, you'll get used to them.) On with the story!_

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_I Want to Know Your Plans_

_(Say Anything)_

_[I want to know your plans, and how involved in them I am. When I go to sleep for good, will I be forgiven? And if you want roses, you can go buy a bouquet. If that just won't cut it, well what can I say?]_

January 26th, 1942.

Of course, Arthur doesn't see Alfred for quite a while after their last meeting. He's been spending most of his time, if not all of it, in Europe. He's in his own country for the moment, oddly enough.

The Germans are still assaulting England mercilessly. The British are fighting them off single-handedly, with no help from anyone. Ironically, he might add, since Great Britain is part of the United Nations, along with 25 other Allied nations.

Currently, he's strolling down the war ravaged streets of London. He's whistling a tune as he goes, aware no one can actually hear him. He's always been quite fond of music. It's something he's carried from his previous life. He's now humming a tune he feels fits the scenery perfectly.

_"I have sailed the world, beheld its wonders from the Dardanelles to the mountains of Peru. But there's no place like London! No, there's no place like London~." _He ends the lyrics with the whistled tune again. He looks up just in time to see one of the buildings above him come crashing down.

If he were alive, that might have stung a bit.

The soldiers are swarming around him. Things are pretty quiet today actually. The only destruction is coming from the poor dilapidated buildings that have already been struck from previous attacks. He's only here right now to take the soul of a young soldier injured in the line of duty.

One more of many he's already taken.

Death can't help but feel that the worst is yet to come. Since he was once alive, he is unable to tell exactly where this war will go. Life is a gift, but it also inhibits. Once you are taught certain things, you can never un-learn them. Death is still very much human.

In his own way.

He's taking his time in arriving to take the man's soul, because, really, he has all the time in the world. The man can't die until he arrives anyway, so what's the rush?

Usually, he is quite professional in his work. He's prompt and proper, as anyone should be in their line of employment. It's not often he gets to enjoy being in his hometown, so he's taking advantage of it.

There has been an ominous shadow looming over Europe lately more than usual. It seems to be radiating from Germany. Death caught wind of 'The Final Solution to The Jewish Question' plan that is supposedly being enforced, but he shudders to think what that will mean. What more can these humans do to each other? A knife in the neck will kill them, right? Why go through any more elaborate schemes?

He's startled into looking up from the ground when the sound of heavy boots fill the air. It's a _lot _more than one pair. The men he's facing are all wearing a different uniform from the one he's used to seeing the British soldiers wear. These men are definitely not from England.

Upon further inspection, the uniforms are much more familiar than he thought. They are the same gaudy pieces of clothing Private Jones was wearing.

These men are American. No doubt about it.

He watches as the men marvel at the ruined streets of London. Some are pointing at the destruction, saying they wish they had a camera. Others are much more polite, saying they want to do all they can to help.

Death is immediately filled with an odd feeling of warmness. Of course it's only wishful thinking to assume that Alfred would be stationed here. Surely the American forces are going to scatter all throughout Europe now. Alfred is simply one of many soldiers in the U.S. Army.

He can hope though, can't he?

He watches as the British soldiers intercept the American soldiers. They are surprisingly fast to adapt. Death wonders if these men have been filled in on the vast differences between each other.

"Wow, looks like you guys have managed to hold your own very well," one of the Americans soldiers says.

"Indeed. We Brits handle ourselves more often than not," a British soldier answers.

Death feels some tension in the air. The men are being polite, but there's certainly some undertones of resentment in the conversation. It's easy enough to see why.

The British men are fatigued and worn down from fighting alone for almost two years to defend their home. They are used to living below their means to provide for the war effort. The Americans are all polished and new, ready to join the hell that's been enveloping Europe since the war began. Their stomachs and pockets are full.

Death shakes his head, wondering how the very different men can learn to get along. Suddenly, he feels the warmth in his being come back. He looks around for the blonde he's been waiting so long to see, but can't locate him.

Deciding on a course of action, he follows the strange vibe he's getting. He makes his way through the crowd of Americans, all now interacting with the British. The feeling gets stronger with every step.

He comes to a sort of clearing where building used to stand. Amongst the rubble, he spots the unruly cowlick just _begging _to be gelled down. He can't help but smile a little at the look of intense innocence on the young man's face.

Alfred is talking to some men of his company. They are all looking around at the wreckage. The Grim Reaper watches intently as a British soldier approaches them.

"Oi, you gentlemen marveling the destruction, eh? Must be quite different from the sky scrapers you're used to," he says scathingly. Death doesn't see a reason to be so hostile toward the young men. They aren't the ones that caused the war.

To his surprise, Alfred is the one who answers.

"It is different. I was just wondering how beautiful it must have been here before the war started!" he says happily, making everyone around him stare at him.

"Come again?" the Englishman asks.

"My mom always wanted to visit London. She used to tell me about the sights when I was little. My younger brother was afraid to fly, but I always kind of wanted to go on a plane. I got my wish though! It was _awesome_! I've never been on a plane until last night! I always thought you could just _drive _to England!"

Death pinches the bridge of his nose.

"...We're on an _island_, you git," the British man says.

"So?"

"_So_? So you can't drive to an island!"

"Well, I know that _now_."

The man shakes his head at the young blonde, but smiles at him widely.

"To think, _you're_ the help we've been waiting for," he sighs.

"Seems to me like you've been doing fine on your own."

The two shake hands, and the air seems more pleasant. Death's breath hitches as Private Jones catches his eye. The American smiles toothily at him, and turns to walk away. Death takes the hint and follows immediately, probably more excited than he should be.

They come to another clearing, but this one is unoccupied. There are noises around them of things being packed, unpacked, and moved around, followed by voices of soldiers making themselves at home.

"Arthur!" Alfred yelps, running and _hugging _Death around the neck. The Englishman is flabbergasted.

"Y-You... You can't just _hug _me!"

"Eh? Why not? I just did."

"Because, Al! It's inappropriate!"

There's no snarky comeback though. Instead, the sandy blonde is smiling even wider at him.

"What is it now?" Arthur asks, getting more used to being called by his name again.

"You called me Al."

"...So?"

"You only give nicknames to people you like!"

Arthur stares at him like he's mad.

"Have you lost it? Gone wonky? Been drinking too much fattening Coke?"

"Coke isn't fattening."

"...I assure you, it is."

"I drink it all the time! I'm not fat!"

Indeed, the American is quite..._lean_. It's odd, since he's bulked up in his Army uniform. Arthur can still see his almost slender frame through the fabric though. He's not scrawny by any means. He's...perfect.

For his size, of course!

Arthur blushes brilliantly when he realizes he was staring. He's instantly glad the young man can't see his face, since he still has his hood on his head. Alfred steps toward him, reaching his hand out.

Death allows him to pull his hood down.

"You know, I've gotta say, I've never seen eyebrows like yours, Arthur."

The Englishman tenses, not sure how to respond. In the era he's from, not many placed importance on the grooming that seems to envelope the world these days. His brows are very prominent, thick and darker than his hair. He's waiting for the man to insult him.

"I like them. I don't think I could imagine you with different ones," Alfred states matter of factly. His hands are still on Death's shoulders. There's a _slight _height difference. The American is taller by an inch. Maybe an inch and a half. No more than that though!

"I... I don't know how to respond..." Death says honestly, feeling himself overwhelmed by the warm feeling again. Alfred laughs heartily.

"Oh, man! You're like, seriously red!"

"Come off it, you idiot!"

More laughter is his answer. Arthur hisses at him.

"What's with you anyway? Why are you so happy to see me all the time?"

"Eh? What kind of question is that? I like seeing you because you're something extraordinary. Don't you think life is boring without amazing things?"

"Don't _you _think it's a little odd to hug the Grim Reaper around the neck?"

"I never claimed to be normal, Arthur."

The American has a point.

"...I suppose that's true. It's certainly true that you're not normal. You're the first human I've talked to in centuries."

"About that... When can I learn about why you're Death now? You were human once, I can feel it. You just...feel different."

Death stares at him again.

"That's a story best saved for another time. I can't go into such things so willy nilly. You can surely understand."

A blank look is his answer.

"...I'll tell you another day."

"Alright!"

"It's going to come with a price though," Arthur adds.

"A price?"

"Yes. Nothing in this world is for free. I have a price."

"Okay then. It's a deal."

"Are you _mental_?! You don't even know what my price is!"

"Oh, yeah. What do I have to do?"

"When I tell you everything, you have to do the same."

"...I've already told you everything. There's nothing left to say about me. I see ghosts, end of story."

The shuffling of soldier's boots grows louder around them, as do the voices.

"There has to be more to it than that... Humans aren't granted such an ability for free. I've been around long enough to know that."

Alfred's blank look shifts back to his usual cheerful one.

"When you figure it out, let me know, would you? I'm afraid we won't have much time to talk, but now that I'm in Europe, we can at least see each other. I'm glad I was assigned to help the war effort in Britain. I really wanted to see you."

Arthur's face erupts in flames again.

"To see me..." he repeats like he's not sure it was said about him. The other man nods.

"I've already told you. You're the only one I like talking to."

"...You're the only one I _can _talk to..."

Alfred busts into laughter, probably drawing the attention of men from his unit.

"Ahahaha! Too true! You're totally stuck with me!"

"...Oh, _joy_."

The American walks toward him again, but this time it's to tug Death's hood back over his head. Arthur finds he rather likes having the male so close. His warmth seems to radiate through the air. He's infectious.

"I expect to see you much more now. We can sense each other, so it should be easy. I know you found me this time."

Death nods absently, once again focusing more on the young man's adorable round face than his words.

"I'm glad. It makes me happy to know you were looking for me."

Death nods once more, now focused on Alfred's unruly blonde hair. His emerald eyes shift to the lips that are still forming words as the man seems to enjoy hearing himself talk.

Those _taunting _lips.

"Be careful out there, alright?" Arthur interrupts him, causing Alfred to cut off whatever he was saying. "I... I've seen how gruesome this war is getting. Just...look after yourself."

Blue eyes widen almost impossibly, and the young blonde throws his arms around the cloaked figure once more.

"I will. I promise. Heroes never die this early in these stories. It's just bad writing!"

"...What?"

Alfred's grip on him tightens again, and Arthur can't help but wrap his arms around the warm man's waist. It's been...so long since he's embraced anything, much less another person.

"See you soon?" Alfred whispers.

"...Of course. You better be alive when I come see you."

"Heh. Always."

Alfred steps away first this time, rejoining the hustle of the other men as they make themselves at home in an unfamiliar land. Arthur watches him go sadly, wishing they had more time. As the American walks away, he starts singing a tune that makes Death's eyes widen.

_"Because there's no place like London! No, there's no place like London!" _Alfred's voice sings smoothly.

"And there's no one else in the world like you, Private Jones..." Arthur laughs, continuing down the dilapidated streets while singing the same song.

_[You're what keeps me believing the world's not gone dead. Strength in my bones put the words in my head. When they pour out to paper, it's all for you. Cause that's what you do. That's what you do.]_

* * *

_Sachi: I love writing these guys! I've actually been listening to their versions of 'Marukaite Chikyuu' religiously. (I think England's Japanese voice is sexy.)_

_ England: ...Well, thank you._

_ America: What about me?!_

_ Sachi: Of course I think you're sexy, Al! You're my favorite, and my home! U.S.A. !_

_ England: *sighs*_

_ Sachi: Right, so, review! They make me really happy and give me an excuse to write! I want to get further in this story!_

_ America: Me too! I'm finally getting more lines!_

_ England: We're all getting more lines! It's not just about you!_

_ Sachi: ...Can't you guys just kiss and make up already...? Brownie points to all who know what tune Alfred and Arthur were singing!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Here we are again! I was wrapped in my other fandom, sorry. I've been getting death threats for not updating my DRRR! story... I mean, seriously. Someone told me they'd stab me... Ah, but it's not out of hatred! I think... Anywhooooo, I've been thinking of SO many ideas for this story! It's a good thing since I haven't planned anything out for it... So, now it's time for my love to you! __darkingflame__, it is from Sweeney Todd! Brownie points to you! I'm so glad you like it! __Kats With Shamrocks__, you think it's awesome! Ah, thank you! I believe they might have a crush on each other too~. __tetris__, ahaha, it was a Johnny Depp movie! Sweeney Todd! __Fynniona__, I'm glad you caught on to that! You think Arthur has a big crush on Al? Heehee, I think so too! As for the ass question, Arthur refuses to answer... So I'd say it's a probable conclusion. __ninjaco0kieXD__, more romance coming! __ForNarnia__, your review had me smiling like an idiot for a while. Gobsmacked, huh? It made me want a Gobstopper! Ahhh, thanks for another recommendation! Might I return the favor and tell you 'Survivor' by Chuck Palahniuk is awesome? (He's my favorite author right now, if you can't tell. :3) Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! They really do make me want to write more! I promise, I'll try to update more often! Once my other fandom starts calming down from the drama bomb I gave them... Now, on with the story!_

* * *

_The Perfect Drug_

_(Nine Inch Nails)_

_[I got my head, but my head is unraveling. Can't keep control, can't keep track of where it's travelling. I got my heart, but my heart's no good. You're the only one that's understood. ]_

Adapting seemed to be very easy for Private Jones.

Death watches as the American troops make more progress in assimilating than he thought they would. He _especially _watches Alfred. He's been watching him the most.

Lately, things have been quieter. Both sides seemed to have calmed down. Both the Axis and Allied powers are most likely thinking of new strategies.

Death still has souls to take, but they're normal deaths. Old age, accidents, stupidity. Of course, every now and then he has a war related death, but those are normally from previous battles.

Whether or not Alfred knows he's there, Death doesn't know. He simply watches from afar as the young American takes life in his hands, in his own boorish way.

Yesterday, he observed Alfred drink more ale than the rest of the men in his company combined, yet miraculously not get drunk. Then, the blonde ran outside making _quite _a scene, yet the other soldiers only laughed at him. He seems to be the comical outlet in both groups.

Death can't help but smile too as he watches. Alfred seems to be enjoying life more than anyone he's ever seen.

Today, the men seem to be enjoying a game of Poker around the table. The British soldiers are betting outlandish things they can't possibly accommodate, and the American's are laughing it up, agreeing to the terms while making their own.

One play, someone wins a house and someone loses a car.

Next play, someone has to kiss their commanding officer while the loser has to move to France.

Death laughs at how both sides make endless fun of the French.

Alfred is with them, eating a plate of fish and chips. The rest of the men in his company don't seem to like British food, but the blonde hardly seems to mind. He's eaten everything that's been placed in front of him, and the pubs seem to enjoy his company.

Probably because the young man is so adorable. It's hard not to love his company.

"Oi, Jones!" One of the British soldiers call. "Come play some cards, mate. We need another player because Murphy is a bloody imbecile."

A man Death assumes is Murphy glares at him and kicks him.

"I'm not an imbecile! I've been up all day and I'm tired!"

Alfred laughs and shakes his head.

"Nah, I'm good. I've got someone to see after I eat," he grins, casting a pointed glance in the shadows. Death feels excited, knowing it's him.

"Oh? Jones found himself a limey girl?" an American asks. The British men throw Poker chips at him.

"Better than a hamburger eating American wench!"

"Hamburgers are good!"

Alfred stands up, still laughing heartily.

"Something like that," he says. "I have to go stand watch anyway. I'll be by the fence all night."

"Want me to come with?" Murphy asks. "You'll be alone till dawn."

"I'm good. Thanks though."

Alfred walks out of the pub just in time to avoid getting caught in the crossfire of Poker chips being thrown around as Murphy apparently wins a hand. Death follows him into the still night air.

It's cold outside, and the American is bundled up. He grins back at the shadow following him, but doesn't talk because there are men all around them. Most of them clap the blonde on the back as he passes, and he greets them in return.

They reach the barbed wire fence, and Alfred walks to the man by the tower.

"Hey! You're good to go! It's my turn to stand guard," he tells the man.

"Oh, thank _God_. I'm fucking cold!" The other male jumps up and gives Alfred a high-five. "I'm going to get a drink."

"They're all playing Poker again. I suggest sitting in the back."

"Ah, thanks."

Death watches the other man go, then turns to find Alfred in his face.

"Well, it's about time you decide to socialize with me, Arthur!"

"Oi, don't get in people's faces! Besides, you're always around others, so I can't just talk to you whenever I please," Arthur hisses.

He's still not used to being called by his name. It's going to take a while.

"Sure you can. I may not be able to answer right away, but I'll listen to you. I always listen to you. I heard you laughing at me the past few days."

"...It's hard not to laugh at you."

"Is it because I'm funny?"

"Something like that."

"Oh, okay. I volunteered to stand guard tonight so I could be alone. You wanted that, right?" Alfred asks, looking up innocently. He sits down, propped against the wall, pulling his knees to his chest and patting the ground beside him.

Arthur sits beside him, then turns entirely red when the American leans against his shoulder.

"I wish you could always be around..." he says quietly.

"I am always around. You just can't see me."

"I know that. I can feel you," Alfred mumbles, nuzzling his head under Arthur's chin. "I just wish we could talk."

"...Me too..."

Alfred laughs quietly.

"For someone who's not alive, you're really warm," he says. "It's _freezing _out here!"

"Ah, it gets very cold in London. You'll get used to it."

"How long...do you think this war will last?"

"Quite a while, I'd wager."

"...Mmmm...thought so..."'

Arthur leans against the other too, feeling his warmth radiate into his own being. He's not sure what the feeling means yet. He just knows he wants the man near him always.

"It's weird...for you to have time to waste like this..." Alfred mutters.

"Ah, my other appointments aren't exactly pressing right now. They're not important."

"Heh... Are you saying I'm important...?"

"...Shut up."

"I'm glad you're here. You're my favorite..."

"..._You're _half asleep."

"Doesn't matter. It's the truth..."

Arthur hisses quietly at the words, not sure why they fill him with such..._warmth_. He listens intently as the young man's breathing evens out. He knows Alfred is asleep.

"...Bloody little fool... How are you going to keep watch if you're unconscious?" he asks. He can't bear to wake the other up though. He just decides to wake him up if something happens.

Besides, it'll give him time to marvel at the other's face.

Observe! He meant _observe_!

...Shut up.

Alfred's unruly hair is tousled in his face. His glasses are askew, and his mouth is open as he breathes softly. Arthur's mint eyes look down to his uniform pocket, which has a piece of paper poking out. He picks the paper out and unfolds it, watching the younger man intently to make sure he wasn't waking up.

It's a list of instructions, but not the kind Arthur was expecting. It's basically telling how to make friends with a British soldier.

**Don't be a showoff.**

** NEVER criticize the King or Queen.**

And Arthur's personal favorite.

**The British don't know how to make a good cup of coffee. You don't know how to make a good cup of tea. It's an even swap.**

He laughs quietly as to not wake up the sleeping male, and places the paper back in his pocket. He wonders idly if every American soldier has this list, or if Alfred made it up.

He looks up at the clear sky, grateful for the lack of clouds. Ever since he was alive, he's loved to look at the stars. Of course, the city lights have made it much harder to do these days. In the time he's from, there was no such problem.

He blinks when Alfred's arms wrap around his waist, and his head moves to his chest.

"Al? Are you awake?" Arthur asks.

There's no response.

Sighing, Arthur wraps an arm around the man's shoulders and looks more intently at his sleeping features.

He looks utterly intoxicating. The American's mouth is still open, and his breath is clouding the air. His _lips_.

_God_, his lips... How would they feel...pressed against his own?

Arthur grits his teeth and slams his head back against the wall to help rid himself of these unholy thoughts.

"Why... Why do I want this so bad? What are you _doing _to me...?" he says quietly, raising his free hand to rub his eyes like it'll help get the image out of his head.

"Nnnmmmm... Arthur..." Alfred sighs in his sleep, scooting even closer. Said man's eyes widen, and he has to bite his lips to stop from doing something stupid. All he can do is hold the other man tightly.

"God, how I want it..." he sighs. Alfred mumbles unintelligibly and nuzzles his face into Arthur's chest. The Englishman places his face in the sandy blonde hair and inhales the intoxicating scent in deeply.

"You're being quite cruel to me...Al..."

_[You make me hard, when I'm all soft inside. I see the truth, when I'm all stupid eyed. The arrow goes straight through my heart. Without you, everything just falls apart.]_

* * *

_Sachi: Yay, another chapter! That list came from a website. I remembered learning about how Americans had to adapt to British customs, so I looked up some phrases commanding officers would tell their subordinates._

_ America: I want a scene where I get to save the day!_

_ Sachi: Umm..._

_ England: I want a scene where he shuts up for five bloody seconds!_

_ Sachi: Ehh..._

_ America: You're so mean! I hate you!_

_ England: Don't say such tripe!_

_ Sachi: Right, so review? They make me ultra-happy! And these two are trying to drive me crazy..._

_ America: At least it's not Italy driving!_

_ Sachi: *hits self*_


	5. Chapter 5

_Finally, I get to update this story! I'm really happy with the positive feedback, because I just LOVE writing about WWII. I'm trying to keep it true to the characters, but also make it historically accurate. So, let's get on with it. __incidentalmusic__, ahhh, my friend! I don't know how you ended up here, but I'm glad you're here with me! Love you, dearest! __AllTheLovelyBrains__, another friend! Tell your schoolwork to leave your brains alone! Ah, I've heard of Homestuck, and I know who Eridan is, but I've never really gotten into it. Maybe I'll check it out since you're getting into Hetalia for me? __bleedingsmirk__, I know, right?! Arthur is being worn down by Alfred! I'm glad you think it's adorable! __Fynniona__, I'm so glad you think they're in character! It probably wouldn't be gentlemanly for Arthur to attack a sleeping Al, but I'm for it! __ninjaco0kieXD__, I loved the hugging part too! Arthur is getting those thought! Poor monster brows... Now, on with the story!_

* * *

_Wonderwall_

_(Oasis)_

_[Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you. By now you should've somehow realized what you gotta do. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now.]_

April 23rd, 1942.

Things pass slowly for quite a while. Thus far, things are still quiet on both fronts, neither side making anymore moves.

There are some factories being built in Germany that have Death on edge. He's not sure why, they just seem to have a _vibe_ about them. He's truly at a loss to where this war is going. He's found he doesn't like it.

Of course, he's been spending more and more time in Europe. London to be exact.

Three guesses why.

Alfred has been busy lately, as have all the soldiers. Their quiet time must be ending soon, and Arthur hasn't seen the blonde enough. He's also very unhappy with this fact.

Before he knows it, three months have flown by.

Of course, time is a concept that he doesn't exactly have to abide by, but Alfred does. The young American is always eager to wave at him, hug him, and he's fallen asleep on the poor Reaper more times than either of them can count. Death only gets to see him after everyone else has gone to bed.

Most nights he's forced to watch as Alfred cuddles against him, mouth open, muttering his name while clenching his dark robe. Arthur can only ever hold him and resist the urge to _make _the unsuspecting man say his name.

It's getting harder to resist.

Currently, he's watching Alfred in a meeting with his commanding officers. The man's blue eyes are wide, and he's biting his lower lip as he listens, casting glances to the shadows every now and then.

Arthur is intrigued, and moves closer.

"The Germans are bombing Cathedral cities in England now," a man says. "The Luftwaffe are calling them 'Baedeker Raids', and they've sworn to bomb every building that's rated more than three stars."

"Is this because of the attack on Lubeck?" another man asks.

"Yes, it is. It seems those krauty assholes are getting bold again. We've been anticipating this."

Alfred is oddly silent, his gaze fixed on Arthur.

"Jones! Are you listening?"

"Ah, um, yes sir! Sorry!"

"We've gotten word that they want us to send help to other cities. Some of you will be shipping out soon enough."

"Shouldn't some of us stay here? I mean...London is probably the most important city and-" Alfred says quietly.

"Just be glad we're getting to stay here at all. Soon enough we'll be heading for Germany, and you'll find they're not as hospitable as the Brits."

"Yes sir..."

"Good, now await further instructions."

Alfred salutes, then walks toward Arthur and grabs his hand inconspicuously while walking.

"Follow me."

"Like I have a choice."

They head to the barracks, which are empty since it's the middle of the day. Arthur sits on the bed and observes the American, who seems to be on edge.

"What's wrong, Al?"

"I don't want to leave London. I like it here."

"...As happy as I am that you love my home, I'm sure the rest of Britain will be just as hospitable toward you."

"It's not about that!" Alfred says sharply, sitting beside Death on the bed and looking into his eyes. "London is a really big place, right? There's a lot of people here!"

"...Yes...?"

"And those people die, and you get to stay here more often than not! What if I go somewhere that doesn't have a lot of people, and you get busy again, and I never see you?!"

Arthur stares at him dumbfounded.

"Al... I'm not here more often because people are dying more. In fact, London is hardly as far in deaths as Germany currently."

"Then... Why are you here so much?"

Seriously? What a _wanker_!

"To see you."

Alfred's face turns red, but he doesn't break his eye-contact with the Englishman.

"To see me? You can do that? I mean...stay in one place..."

"I'm not _supposed _to stay in one place too long. I'm not here all the time. I still have to travel the world and collect souls. I simply...make a few if them wait longer to die if it's not _pressing_ for me to collect right away."

"...That's crazy..."

"Al, the world is a big place. People die every couple of seconds. Since this war has started, it's been even more than that. I don't know what else to tell you."

Alfred leans against his shoulder and sighs.

"So basically you're saying you could get in big trouble for staying here even now..."

"You could get in trouble for sitting here with me as well. Anyone who walks in wouldn't see me, they'd see you sitting alone on a bed and assume you're being lazy," Arthur counters, leaning against the younger man in return.

"Yeah, but... It's worth it..."

"It's worth it to me too."

"It doesn't make sense for it to be worth it to you. I mean, you're immortal! Even if you used to be human, you're not now. Shouldn't my existence not really matter to you?"

"I don't pretend to have all the answers to everything. I don't know why you matter to me, but you do."

Alfred pulls away from his shoulder and looks into his eyes again, their faces very close together. Arthur can taste his breath in the air between their faces, and he finds he likes the taste.

A lot.

"Did you know... Everyone in my unit thinks I have a British girlfriend?" Alfred asks suddenly.

"...No, I didn't know that."

"They say it's because I talk in my sleep, and I keep mentioning someone..."

Arthur's eyes grow wide, since he's been with the man many times while he was sleeping.

"...Is that so?" he asks.

"Yeah. I'm not dreaming of any girl though. I'm thinking about you..."

This can't _really _be happening, can it? This American soldier can't be coming onto him, right?

It's impossible.

"M-Me?"

"Yeah..."

Arthur can't really seem to grasp this right now.

"What...about me...?"

"Like you don't know."

Alfred's face seems to move closer, and his eyes seem brighter.

"Al... I..."

"I think sometimes that you're going to walk in my room and _nag _me to death about how horrible my sleeping posture is!"

"..."

Damn every being in the afterlife for letting Death get his hopes up.

Of _course _this bloody git can't read the mood!

Stupid American!

"Is that seriously what you dream about? Me nagging you?"

"Not always. Sometimes we just talk, and other times you tell me about yourself."

"...You dream of me often?"

"Of course! You're tied with hamburgers! I dream of them almost as much as I dream of you!"

Being tied with dead cow meat has never seemed so luxurious.

"Al... Do you know what it means yet? To...dream of someone often...?"

"That I like you around me? I already told you I do."

This is too hard. It's too hard!

How the hell can Arthur just tell him what he's thinking when it's like talking to a toddler?! It's impossible.

"Yes, that's what it means. I have to go, Al. So glad we had this conversation," Death says viciously, removing himself from the bed to stand up. To his surprise, Alfred grabs his sleeve.

"Why are you mad? Did I do something? I'm sorry!" the man wails.

Death's glare softens, and he sighs as he looks into those impossibly perfect blue eyes.

"I'm not mad at you, love. Not at all."

"Then stay here with me!"

Arthur looks at him incredulously, but allows himself to be pulled onto the small bed. Alfred settles against his chest and sighs happily as he nuzzles into the warmth.

"This isn't a good idea. It's going to look quite bad for you if someone walks inside."

"I don't care about that, Arthur."

"I do! I don't want you to get reprimanded because you think I'm mad at you! I need to leave anyway, you know. I have important meetings and-"

Alfred pulls away to hover over him and lock their gazes.

"Please? Will you please stay here with me for just a little longer?"

Arthur hisses at how close their faces are, and vows he will kill the man himself if he ever pulls such a stunt again.

"...Of course I will... Just stop looking so defeated..."

Alfred settles against him again and threads his fingers through Death's.

"The truth is... I don't know why I think of you so much..." he says.

"Al..."

"But I don't like you to be away from me. What if I figure it out and you're not here? I want you to be here with me..."

"I'm here now."

"I mean always."

"I'll always find you. We're connected now, right? I found you last time."

Alfred laughs quietly and squeezes his fingers.

"Then everything is fine..." he says.

Arthur wants to tell him everything is _not _fine, the world is still at war, and he's still an idiot that can't read the atmosphere and know when someone is in _love _with him, but he doesn't say a word.

For now, everything is fine.

_[And all the roads we have to walk are winding. And all the lights that lead us there are blinding. There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don't know how. Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me. And after all, you're my wonderwall.]_

* * *

_Sachi: Yay, chapter 5! We're moving right along!_

_ America: Am I really that bad at reading the atmosphere?_

_ Sachi: ...Why do you think England wants to spend so much time with you and make sure you're alright?_

_ America: Because he's bossy and likes to be right!_

_ England: *sighs* You're truly an idiot._

_ Sachi: Right, so... Reviews make me happy! And you wouldn't want me to be unhappy would you? D:_

_ England: I'm sure they wouldn't care either way._

_ America: See? He's totally mean!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Hello again! It's time to post another chapter on this story~! I know, I know. I need to update more and blah, blah, blah. It's hard though! D: I have to do research for this story to make sure the dates and such are historically accurate. You think I'm making excuses? You don't know! Now, for the love! __Fynniona__, I believe Al can read the atmosphere, but chooses not to… Your review was quite graphic! I LOVE IT! __Kats With Shamrocks__, haha, I'm glad you think so! __AllTheLovelyBrains__, don't die! I need you, my awesome lovely! Ah, I'm glad you like my new picture! It was hard to work without a scanner, so it's simply a colored pencil drawing I took a picture of from my smartphone… __ninjaco0kieXD__, I look at it as Arthur is a gentleman, and he won't make a move…YET. Ah, I've been told I do things because I'm a sadist, but I'll let you figure that out for yourself whether or not it's true! *winks* Now, time for another chapter of innocent Alfred! On with the story!_

* * *

_Weak and Powerless_

_(A Perfect Circle)_

_[Tilling my own grave to keep me level. Jam another dragon down the hole. Digging to the rhythm and the echo of a solitary siren, one that pushes me along and leaves me so… Desperate, ravenous. So weak and powerless, over you.]_

June, 1942.

Sadly, more time passes in which Arthur doesn't get to see his favorite human. Both are incredibly busy these days, since both sides have started the offensive again. Arthur can only watch from afar as the young man runs circles around his company, figuratively, and realistically.

Alfred seems to have an unfathomable amount of _power_ in him. Death can't help but watch him in awe as he moves cars with his feet, climbs entire walls with ease, drinks _ungodly _amounts of ale, and yet always seems to keep his composure. Indeed, the only _human _thing Alfred seems to do is sleep, which is the only time Arthur really gets to spend with him.

Since many soldiers share the same barracks, they don't get to talk. Alfred will simply lounge against his chest and entwine their fingers, occasionally squeezing Death's till he looks down and is greeted with a warm smile.

The only time they've spoken since Arthur almost gave in to his urges so many days ago, was quite a while back as well. They had a quiet moment in the barracks again, but it was just as unproductive as their first barrack meeting,

Arthur is beginning to think Private Jones is an idiot as far as empathy goes.

Honestly, how could he not realize how odd it is to hold hands with another man? Granted, Death isn't technically alive anymore, so there are more things wrong with it than just one, but that's beside the point.

If Alfred was to be as touchy toward other men as he is toward Death, the young American might be killed. Homosexuality is very much frowned upon, _especially _in the Army.

Arthur simply has to learn to control his urges and _not _act upon them. It's just too much to lay on someone who already has so much to worry about.

Despite his concerns that he would be transferred, Alfred remains in London. His Sergeant seems to like him well enough to let him help command the troops, despite the fact that he's only a Private. This is part of the reason he's so busy these days.

Death is currently in Germany, noting the odd amounts of names piling on his list, all at the same place. He arrives at one of the many factories he's seen being built, the ones that give him chills. He looks at a sign outside the space.

_Auschwitz. _

Death frowns, then looks up to see an awful amount of men being led to a large building inside the barbed wire fence. He follows them, noting the German soldiers shoving them with the butts of their guns.

_"Gehen sie schneller!" _one of the soldiers yells, pushing a young man forward. Death notices all the ones being led don't have hair anymore, and are all wearing striped jumpsuits with yellow stars on the front.

Jews.

_"Ich werde dich erschießen!" _the soldier yells at the same man, kicking him as he trips.

Arthur cringes at this awful treatment. Never has he seen such a thing.

He observes as the Jews are lead into the building, then a German on top of the roof places something in a hole while wearing a gas mask. Smoke starts to come from the top of the hole, and the German places a cap on it.

Screams are heard from inside, and Arthur looks at his list as _hundreds _of names appear on his list at once. He scrambles to move inside the enclosed space, and holds back a squeak of terror at what he sees.

Inside is cloudy and dark. Men are all over the floor, seizing and convulsing, coughing up blood and God knows what.

Reality creeps in like an unwelcome relative. These are gas chambers created to end these poor people, and it's likely that _every _factory he saw being built will be used for the same thing. He gasps at the cries of pain, and hurries to end their suffering.

No one deserves this.

* * *

Arthur moves slowly through the battle worn streets of London. Even these war ravaged streets seem to be a sight for sore eyes. He'll never forget what he saw today. Not ever.

Of course it's foolish to feel this way. He's seen the most gruesome deaths, most of them too awful to think of. He was able to deal with those easily enough without a problem.

_Why _does this bother him so much? These are human matters! They shouldn't matter to him! They don't concern him!

He freezes.

They concern _Alfred_. Alfred Jones, his reason for any sort of happiness he'll allow himself to feel. Alfred Jones, who wants to be a hero and save the entire world.

_Alfred Jones _who can't read the atmosphere even if it beat him with a baseball bat.

Arthur scans the ruins of his hometown, looking for a certain head of sandy blonde hair. He has to see him. He _has _to!

The Reaper finds him talking to the man he recognizes as Murphy, laughing at some stupid joke with some other men from their unit, as well as some British soldiers.

"Oooh, oooh, I know one!" Alfred says happily, swatting Murphy's hand away as it playfully punches his shoulder.

"Do tell, Jones."

"What do you call a deer with no eyes?"

"…No clue. What?"

"I have no eye-deer!"

There's a slight pause in the air as everyone takes in what the younger man said, then it's replaced with boisterous laughter.

"Blimey! That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!" a British soldier says between bouts of laughter.

"Made you laugh though, so it counts," Alfred shrugs.

Arthur can't help but smile at the exchange, immediately feeling warm from the presence of the blonde. Alfred turns to look at him, his eyebrows raised. He can obviously sense something is wrong.

It's actually impressive since he can't ever tell Death's mood at other times.

"I'll be back," he tells the men, moving toward a dilapidated building to stand behind the rubble. Death realizes they're out of sight, so he removes his hood and speaks to the object of his affections.

"Wipe that look off your face, Al. Everything is fine," he says.

"No it's not. I can tell… What happened?"

Arthur looks at him closely, into the pools of blue that can so entirely clueless at one point, then so perceptive the next.

"I… I went somewhere awful…"

Alfred moves toward him and nuzzles his face into his neck.

"Was it France?"

Death laughs in spite of himself, shivering from the warm breath against his neck as the American laughs too.

"No, love. It wasn't France."

"Worse? Where did you go?"

Arthur cringes and holds the man tighter to himself, burying his face in the sandy hair.

"Arthur…?"

"I went to Germany today…and took the lives of hundreds of Jewish people…"

Alfred snaps back and looks at him in alarm.

"Hundreds?! What happened?"

"They were gassing them. They put them in a small room and closed off all oxygen and gassed them… They were… They were convulsing and…there were children…"

Alfred's eyes grow impossibly wide, and he bites his inner cheek as he observes Arthur's face.

"Man… I know it's bad if _you're_ upset about it…"

"I'm quite upset by it."

The American buries his face in Death's neck again and holds him tight.

"It's alright… You're with me now."

Arthur leans into the embrace and can't stop his lips as they kiss Alfred's temple. The two stay like this for a moment before the silence is broken.

"Maybe I should tell my Sergeant?" Alfred asks.

"No! You can't tell anyone about this! Who are you going to say your source is? You can't just walk up to someone and tell them the bloody Grim Reaper told you a secret!"

"…But it'll happen again if I don't say anything!"

"Time has to pass its course. You can't change things this way, Al. You're not supposed to be able to talk to me. Life only moves one way."

"I can't just let them die! I'm a hero for everyone, Arthur!"

"If you try to change things, you'll make it much worse for everyone! The repercussions of changing the course of time are _much _worse than anything you can imagine!"

They each stare the other down, then Alfred relents first.

"I know you're right… It's just hard…"

"I shouldn't have told you… I'm truly sorry."

Alfred shakes his head and pulls the cloaked figure close again.

"You only wanted me to make you feel better, right? It's fine…"

They're wrapped in such a tight embrace; Death never wants it to end. He knows it will have to eventually, because they're from different worlds. Oh, how he never wants it to end…

Alfred pulls away and gives him a smile, moving his hands up to touch Arthur's eyebrows, their faces impossibly close.

"Are you feeling better?"

Arthur remains unmoving, captivated by the young man's face so close to his again. Those ungodly lips are more centimeters away from his own…

"Al…"

"Is that a yes?"

Death cups his face, pulling him closer.

"Ar-Arthur?"

Then, the gap between their mouths closes at long last.

_[Little angel go away, come again some other day. The devil has my ear today, I'll never hear a word you say. Promised I would find a little solace and some peace of mind, whatever just as long as I don't feel so… Desperate and ravenous. So weak and powerless… Desperate and ravenous. So weak and powerless…Over you…]_

* * *

_ Sachi: Cliffhanger, hanging from a cliiiiiiiff! And that's why he's called Cliffhanger! _

_ America: England kissed me?_

_ England: We don't know that yet! Don't jump to conclusions!_

_ America: At least I'm not in denial!_

_ Sachi: Seriously…? Anyway, my reviews are lacking! My traffic graph says I'm getting hundreds of views a chapter, yet only a few reviews! Does it suck that bad?!_

_ America: Maybe they're busy._

_ England: Maybe it sucks._

_ Sachi: Well, aren't you a mean little crumpet? If you want to see what happens next-_

_ America: You will review~!_


	7. Chapter 7

_I decided to update this story today because I'm using such historical facts, it only seems fitting to update on another day that will forever live in history. Even so many years later, watching documentaries on September 11__th__, 2001 still shows how things changed after the attacks on the WTC. So we Americans should never forget that day as long as we live, and I decided to show my remembrance in this A/N! Now, with that said, let's move on, shall we? Holy frick! I know I asked for more reviews, but I never expected to more than double the amount I'm used to in this fandom! THANK YOU! It either means you liked last chapter, or you just wanted to see the aftermath of the kissing scene… Either way, I'll take it! So now for my love to you all! __darkingflame__, ah, I'm kinda big on cliffhangers. It keeps you coming back! Arthur did finally make a move! __Kit-Usa__, I'm glad you appreciate Arthur finally growing some balls! __AllTheLovelyBrains__, ahhh, you like how I'm writing America? I tried really hard on him, so it means the world to me! Thank you! __Fynniona__, thank you again for your wonderful fanart! I love it! I'm glad you can see the human side of Arthur still.__ tetris__, but they make you come back! Don't grumble at me! __Kats With Shamrocks__, ohhh, you're going a lot further than kissing! __Aerowave__, you think it's awesome? THANK YOU! You squealed when they kissed? Awww! __ZillaMeister__, my A/N guilt tripped you? THEN IT WORKED! Muahahahaha! You're the second one to tell me that particular book is good… I'll really have to look it up! I never discontinue stories! I hate that! __Izaya-neko__, so I AM being kidnapped? Oh, the fun we'll have! __You know who__, …I know who? Are you Voldemort…? You threatened me?! Well, fine! I want you to know that I'm updating because I WANT to, and not because you threatened me! So there! (Thanks for reviewing!) __ninjaco0kieXD__, I acted that way when I first heard that joke too! Sometimes cliffhangers are necessary! Now, enough of my babbling! On with the story~!_

* * *

_Parabola_

_(Tool)_

_[We barely remember who or what came before this precious moment. We are choosing to be here right now. Hold on, stay inside. This holy reality, this holy experience, choosing to be here in. This body, this body holding me. It's my reminder here that I am not alone in. This body, this body holding me, we are eternal. This pain is an illusion.]_

Warm…

Soft…

_Alive_.

Arthur revels in his lips against Alfred's. It's an entirely innocent kiss, one that was meant to comfort. One that was meant to help…

It would've been impossible to resist the urge this time. Death couldn't help it. He only needed something solid, something _real_.

Alfred makes a small squeaking sound and places his hands on the Reaper's shoulders, weakly pushing away. The lack of force is enough to convince Arthur the American doesn't really want him to stop. He's seen how strong the man is, and knows if the contact truly wasn't wanted, it wouldn't be allowed.

"Al… _Al_…" Arthur mutters, wrapping his arms around the younger man's waist. His lips pressed against Alfred's is the only thing he's truly felt since his demise so long ago.

Soon, Alfred stops trying to pull away and simply holds onto Death's shoulders. His own lips weakly press against the man's holding him, and Arthur feels_ alive_ again. Neither of them know how long they stay this way, or who pulls away first.

Warm sapphire meets mint green as they stare at each other when they part. Both of them are silent, flushed from contact.

"Jones! What are you doing over there?" a man's voice calls. Alfred jolts and removes himself from Death's hold as he struggles to respond.

"I, uh… I thought I saw something shiny over here, but it wasn't anything special!" he lies poorly.

"You Americans and your need to find something valuable everywhere you go," A British voice sighs. "It's truly something else."

"We don't _need _to find treasure! We just want to!" an American responds.

Alfred casts another wary glance at Arthur, and then walks toward the other men. Death longingly watches him go, then pulls out his list to get back to work.

* * *

Sadly, the two don't see each other for some time after their encounter. Arthur is busy taking souls again, feeling entirely frustrated with himself for letting his desires get the best of him.

He _knew _better. He truly did. He knew Alfred didn't feel the same. How could he? Someone like Alfred Jones would have so much to live for…so much to see, to experience, to enjoy… How could he want to be with someone who hasn't had a joyous day in centuries?

It's true that Arthur Kirkland wasn't always an immortal. Truly, he still isn't. He's simply filling in for someone else.

Ah, but that's a story best saved for another time.

It's been about two weeks since he last saw Alfred, and that defenseless stare is all he's seen ever since.

Those trusting blue eyes that seemed to be completely in shock… All because of one moment of stupidity…

He sighs to himself as he returns to London. He's been here a certain number of times since he last saw the American, but none of them were to see said man.

No, they were all for work, same as this time.

A woman is on his list, but it's a simple death. She's going to die of old age in a few minutes, so he has to greet her to prepare her for eternity.

It's all part of the job description. Too bad there were never any pamphlets on the subject.

He can still feel Alfred's presence in his being. It's a warm feeling he hasn't been able to shake off, nor has he wanted to.

When their lips were touching, it was like a _fire_.

He feels the warmth grow stronger, but decides to ignore it. It's pointless to get his hopes up at this point. Why would Alfred hunt him down?

It's nighttime in the city, and the lights from the building that are still standing are beautiful. One thing Death can marvel at is electricity. No such thing was around when he was alive, and the lights are simply marvelous at night.

He's amazed how far mankind has advanced.

He makes his way down one of the cobblestone streets, enjoying the clear night despite the bitter chill in the air. It's not nearly as cold as it has been, but when the sun sets there's always a chill.

He finds the old house the woman is in, and enters undetected as always.

Within mere moments, he ceases her struggles, emitting her to eternity. Everyone's afterlife is different. If you're hoping for a city in the clouds, sorry. That's unrealistic.

Arthur can certainly attest to that.

He has more names from Germany on his list again, but he's dreading the return. He's walking as slowly as possible to better postpone the scene he fears will await him.

He just…needs comfort of some kind. No one ever said it would be easy to be the Reaper, but every now and then it seems harder than usual. After all, Arthur is only human.

Well, he used to be.

Deciding he can't bear it any longer, he sets out to find Alfred, to see him even if it's only one last time. He has to see him, _needs _to see him. It's a force of gravity he can't fight anymore.

* * *

Death enters the barracks, knowing Alfred will be inside. Most of the men are either out at the pubs or womanizing, or _God _knows what, but Alfred always avoids the latter. The most he will do is drink, but always leaves before things get too hectic.

Usually it was to see Arthur, but who knows now? Maybe he's just tired tonight and decided to go to bed early.

Either way, Arthur finds him in his small space, curled under the sheets with his unruly hair poking out. Death looms over him, sitting on the corner as he observes the young male.

"Mmmnnnnghhhh…" Alfred sighs, reaching his hand out to tug Arthur's toward himself. "Arrrr….furrr…"

"Well, it's _'Arthur'_, but at least you tried," Death smiles fondly. Slowly, blue eyes open to observe him.

"Arthur…?"

"Indeed."

Alfred jumps to sit up and thrust himself into the Reaper's arms.

"A-Al, you could _warn _me!" Arthur sputters, struggling to not topple into the floor.

"I thought… I thought you'd never come see me again!" Alfred wails. "I kept sensing you near, but you never came and I… I thought I did something wrong!"

Arthur holds him tightly in assurance.

"No, love. Not at all. _I _messed up, not you. I'm sorry for…the other night…"

"The _other _night?! It's been two fucking weeks!"

"Your vocabulary never seems to get any cleaner."

"…Shut up."

Death only smiles as he inhales the scent he's missed so much. The intoxicating aroma of Alfred Jones. He…

He can't go back to how they were.

He just _can't_.

"I came to see you one last time…"

Alfred snaps back in alarm.

"Wha…?"

"What happened last time… It was absolutely uncalled for and I can never apologize enough. I was weak and… I'm truly sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

"For _what?! _I kissed you and-! Look, I'm sorry, alright?"

Alfred bites his cheek and looks up at the shadowed figure in the room.

"That was just for comfort though, right? I mean… You did it because you were scared… That's fine…"

Arthur looks at him incredulously.

"It was _not _just for some seek of comfort! It was more than that! It _is _more than that! I can't… I can't keep doing this..."

"Doing what…?"

"You know bloody well what! You're truly the cruelest human I've ever met! Do you know what you're doing to me?!"

Alfred only shakes his head, a helpless look on his face.

"…That's why I have to go. I can't do this."

"Please don't leave me, Arthur…"

Death hisses at him and shoves him down into the sheets.

"That's what I mean! You keep wanting me around, wanting me, and wanting me! You'll never…never want me like I want you…"

"Arthur…"

They stare at each other in the dim light, Alfred under the Reaper and making no motions to get up. Arthur caresses his face and marvels at him, observing as the distance between them closes once more.

When their lips meet, it's different from before. Alfred responds immediately, wrapping his arms around Death's neck. They sink into the sheets together, their lips moving in unison.

Suddenly, Alfred's mouth opens, and their tongues begin to massage each other. It's an indescribable feeling to Arthur, who's losing himself in this stimulation.

"Ah…Arthur…_Arthur…_"

Death growls and continues kissing the sandy blonde, greedily tasting his overly sweet mouth. This indulgence is another indicator of his weakness, associated with his connection to the human race.

Humans truly are fleeting little things, only acting on impulse to get what they want. And that's something that affects the _entire _population.

No matter what flag you fly.

"I… I wanted this too…" Alfred gasps when their mouths finally part, a strand of saliva connecting them.

"You did?" Arthur asks, lifting his hand to wipe their mouths clean.

"I thought…it was wrong… Didn't want…you to get in trouble…"

Arthur smiles at him fondly, caressing his face.

"I don't care about that, Al."

"…You should…"

Their lips connect again, effectively cutting off any further protests. Sure, there could be repercussions later. There's always that chance.

But now… Now is another matter.

Now, it's just them.

_[This body holding me reminds me of my own mortality. Embrace this moment, remember we are eternal. All this pain is an illusion.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: Yay, we've gotten past the endless torture of the first hump of their relationship!_

_ England: …Hump?_

_ Sachi: …Like a hurdle… I know what you were thinking._

_ England: I wasn't thinking that!_

_ America: Ahahaha! Iggy has a dirty mind! Dirty mind!_

_ England: Shut your mouth!_

_ Sachi: *sigh* So, review please! My feedback last time was so incredible; I may go through withdrawals if I don't get the same response! D: GIVE ME MY FIX!_


	8. Chapter 8

_Hello my lovelies~! Sorry, I was lost on the path of life again. You know, celebrated my birthday and what not. Also I'm still wrapped in my DRRR! fandom because they're threatening to kill me. Seriously, those reviews verge on violent sometimes… Ah, but that doesn't concern you right now! Once again you have been kind with your feedback! A lot of you voiced your appreciation for my commemoration to the 9/11 attacks too. Honestly, even if you may not remember much about that day, (I was young, but I remember seeing everyone crying.), you should still take the time to remember the loss our nation suffered. It was one of America's darkest days, and we must remember, for it's history. I'm a history buff, so for me, it's really important! Even so, as an American, it should be important anyway. Now, let's move on to your love, shall we? __incidentalmusic__, YOU are quite poetic,, my dear! __ninjaco0kieXD__, it's too early in the story for such things! __tetris__, …good idea! But, no. That's not where we're headed! __Kats With Shamrocks__, I accept your hug, and raise you an EPIC hug. No takesies backsies. __Kit-Usa__, ah, it was horrible. But once again, it's history, and we would do well to remember! __Casey-Hence__, haha, it was a good idea, but not where I'm going! The lemon smell will be replaced with lime until further notice. __darkingflame__, I'm glad you think my writing is amazing~! Thank you! __ZillaMeister__, ahh, yes I hate discontinuing stories. That's like a slap in the face to everyone who reviewed for you. I didn't think your review was sappy at all. I feel the same way, and it makes me mad that many people my age don't really care about what happened back then. __Fynniona__, I do try to make Arthur deep! Amen to your ending note! __Shite Anonym__, I prefer UKUS too, but that's because I have my feelings on who should top who. *prepare for long-winded explanation* See, some base it off who's taller, more built, etc., etc. I base it more off personalities. For example, sure, Al is an inch or two taller, but he's also younger, more immature, loud mouthed, and begging to be dominated. (I think.) And Arthur is older, but also looks out for Alfred, even while trying to pretend it's only passing concern. I think they're made for one another, but I just feel Al is too…childlike to dominate. That may just be me though… __Guest__, ahh, I'm so happy you love it! It's getting more and more difficult to keep Al in character, since the horrors of the war will start affecting him soon! Enough of my rambling! On with the huffin' story!_

* * *

_Name_

_(Goo Goo Dolls)_

_[And even though the moment passed me by, I still can't turn away. 'Cause all the dreams you never thought you'd lose, got tossed along the way. Letters that you never meant to send, got lost or blown away. And now we're grown up orphans, and never knew their names. We don't belong to no one, that's a shame. But you could hide beside me, maybe for a while. And I won't tell no one your name. And I won't tell 'em your name.]_

July 22, 1942.

Time passes as always, even for Death and his idiotic American. The two still rarely get to interact, and only get to meet after everyone else is asleep. To most, it wouldn't be enough contact, but to them, it's just enough.

Arthur revels in the time they can spend together. He watches Alfred sleep, listens to his soft breathing, his mumbles, his heart beat… His _warmth _is something Death will never get tired of. The most inspiring fact is that this man is all his. Arthur never asked him, but he was sure they both knew the American belonged to him and him alone.

Arthur Kirkland is a stingy man.

Something bothering him is Alfred Jones himself. Who _is _Alfred Jones? The young man can lift things ten times his size, talk to spirits, touch Death himself and not _die…_ Arthur is beginning to think he isn't human at all.

Worse yet, the Reaper has made countless trips to Germany, each time encountering more horrors. Death camps are being built left and right, and more and more people are _disappearing_.

It's a downright horror.

He observes as more names appear on his list, one after the other, and he knows what he's about to see. It's at a new location, but it's in Germany all the same.

He observes the brick building, knowing what's inside. The German soldiers are leading their prisoners inside, shouting obscenities at them.

_"Es ist nur eine Dusche!"_

"Liars," Death thinks to himself. "They're lying…"

If only they could hear him. They can't, and they're going to die.

It's just the way things are. He's told himself this as many times as he's told Alfred. They can't change the course of time. They were never meant to meet, so they're doing enough damage already.

He watches them led one by one into the building. One by one they enter, one by one the screams start…

One by one, he kills them all.

As he ends their suffering, he thinks only of a sandy blonde American to keep himself sane.

_"Alfred will be there when you get back. Alfred will save you. Alfred will make it all better. It's just work, it's just work, it's just work."_

It's too much.

It's just too much.

The walls of _Treblinka _scream at him until he leaves, taking hundreds of new souls with him.

* * *

Arthur makes his way down the familiar streets on London yet again. He's not there just because it's his home, or because it's familiar. No, not anymore.

He's there to see his soldier.

Anywhere Alfred goes, he will go. They can't be apart… They just _can't. _

"Dude, I'm telling you! Life in America is great!" a loud voice says from a tunnel. The streets have been more or less empty, since the roads are still blocked from building rubble.

_"Americans are ungrateful! They rebelled against His Majesty the King!" _another voice answers. It's a hollow sounding voice, lacking any physical strength. It's more of an echo than anything else.

A spirit, Arthur assumes. He enters the dim lit space and observes the scene.

"It wasn't a rebellion for no reason!" Alfred says. "It was for freedom! Everyone deserves freedom!"

_"I was a redcoat supporter, of course. My nephew died in your unnecessary war! It was useless bloodshed when we gave you everything!"_ the spirit says back. He's an elderly man, wearing a long coat and rain boots than appear to be from a long time ago.

"It was a war from forever ago! If he died in it, it was his choice to fight! That's hardly my fault just because I'm American!" Alfred bites back.

_"It's in your blood. Isn't it just like an American to say something so clichéd? You say it's not your fault because you weren't directly involved. Wouldn't you say the same for every battle ever fought?"_

"What are you talking about?"

_"Your country is currently locking up Japanese American citizens, correct? Isn't that the same thing?"_

"That was a decision made by many people to help save lives! Japanese families were receiving death threats because of Pearl Harbor, and American families feared terrorists! That was something for both sides!" Alfred says, clearly getting riled up.

_"It seems to me you're no better than those Nazi's locking up people different from them."_

"DON'T YOU EVER SAY THAT!"

Arthur decides now it the time to intervene.

"Now, now. Both of our countries have less than perfect backgrounds. Can't we let bygones be bygones and focus on the war at hand?" he asks as he makes his presence knows. Alfred looks up at him through his wide spectacled gaze.

"Arthur! He's being an asshole!" he wails as he thrusts himself in Death's arms.

"It seems to me both sides were being quite rude," Arthur laughs, holding him close.

_"Oh, and now the Grim Reaper is here? Great. Why don't we call all the past Kings and Queens to come drink a pint with us?" _the man says savagely. Death looks him over.

"I'm supposing based off your hostility, you were involved in the American Revolution?"

_"I wasn't involved directly. I was too old to fight, but I wished for the English victory all the same."_

"Ah, everyone did. It wasn't meant to be, old timer. Don't you think it's about time you moved on?"

"Yeah… Mean ol' coffee killer…" Alfred mumbles into Arthur's neck.

"That doesn't even make sense, Al," the Brit smiles fondly.

He remembers back to the Revolutionary days. He, like all his country at that time, supported the Redcoats. He had to take lives from both sides, nonetheless.

Yes, Arthur is even older than the Revolutionary War.

_"I'm not in the mood for it yet. I think I'll stick around and watch the world destroy itself a little longer."_

With that, the man disappears, more than likely going somewhere else to observe the new way of life.

"It's quite interesting to see your power in action," Arthur says to the man in his arms.

"…You're the first to see it…"

"Your brother never knew?"

"Mattie didn't believe in ghosts. He said they were stupid…"

"Ah, I see."

Arthur sways them back and forth, enjoying as the American's arms find their way around his neck.

"Don't let his animosity get to you. You're nothing like those Nazi's," Death murmurs against sandy blonde hair. Alfred only nods, and kisses the Reaper's neck.

"You're being awfully cuddly today, Al," Arthur says happily.

"You… You need it. I can tell."

"…Al…"

"Every time you go to those places… I can feel it. I feel you when you're upset, you know?"

"I know…"

"How bad was it this time?"

"I… I don't think you want to know…"

"Tell me…"

"I saw them putting the bodies in ovens…and burning them…" Arthur says quietly.

"Oh God…"

Death feels the sudden grip in his stomach when he tells Alfred what he saw. The sudden jolt of despair. He knows now what Alfred feels every time he goes to collect these damned souls.

"It's okay, love."

"No it's not! More and more people are dying and I'm supposed to help them! It's not okay!"

"You can't save the world, Al…"

"It's my job to help those who can't help themselves! I'm a soldier! I-"

Arthur presses his lips against the American's to comfort him, ceasing the rambles.

"Ar…Arthur…"

"Shhh…"

Their lips meet again, and again, and again, driving away the screams from the death camp.

"Tell me, Al… How did you discover your ability?" Arthur asks as he nibbles the young man's earlobe.

"I…I used to have all these friends…my mom never met and, ahh, she said they were…imaginary…" Alfred manages as the sinful tongue traces down his neck.

"Is that all?"

"She…said I was…too old for imaginary friends… And then…Mattie…woke up screaming because our toys were floating…in midair…and…and… God, I can't…can't talk when you're doing that…"

"Heh, doing what~?" Arthur presses him against the wall and his mouth roams over those taunting lips before he claims them. Alfred holds onto him tightly, opening his mouth and pulling him as close as possible.

"I thought you said your brother didn't believe in ghosts," Death says as he parts to let the sandy blonde breathe.

"He…did before he…got older…"

"Ahhh, I see…" Arthur's hands roam over the round face as he looks into the deep pools of blue, captivated as always.

"My God, Al… You're beautiful…"

"Don't say stupid things!"

"I'm being honest, love."

"Honestly stupid!"

"Haha! That's actually a clever comeback coming from you."

There's still many questions left to ask, and many answers left to come. Whatever time brings, they can face it together. They _have _to face it together.

Alfred is the only remedy to the screams.

_[I think about you all the time, but I don't need the same. It's lonely where you are, come back down. And I won't tell 'em your name…]_

* * *

_ Sachi: I know most of you wanted some lemon. We're just not there yet! It doesn't fit in with the atmosphere I'm creating! _

_ America: Do we __**have **__to have those scenes? I mean… We can go along without them, right?_

_ Sachi: We technically could, but the fangirls would eat me alive._

_ England: We're having those scenes!_

_ Sachi: …_

_ America: Eh?_

_ England: For…uh… We need to save Sachi! We can't have her eaten by fangirls! Hahaha…_

_ America: …That's fooling no one…_

_ Sachi: Review for love! :D_


	9. Chapter 9

_Hiya! I've been meaning to update this story, but I'm having a bit of writer's block. Ahh, that's what I get for writing on impulse. (I haven't planned anything out for this story, by the way. Except the end.) Anywho, I was hit with some inspiration! We're going to skip time a lot in this story! In case you're wondering why, because it's going to be through most of WWII, and we have to go from 1941 all the way to either 1944, or 1945. I'm trying to decide when exactly I'll end it… But we should get on with it instead of me just rambling! __91RedRoses__, saying no is foreplay? Ahaha! Arthur will surely keep that in mind! __darkingflame__, awwww! Thank you! WWII was dark indeed. Did you know there are some college professors who will tell you the Holocaust never happened? Yup, they'll tell you it was a conspiracy to make Germany look bad. How ridiculous! No, millions of Jews, homosexuals, gypsies, and others just DISAPPEARED by coincidence. I hate stupid people, ugh. Ranting makes me happy too! __ninjaco0kieXD__, …that would be an awful ending! You should watch a movie called __The Boy in the Striped Pajamas__. You will BAWL. __Cheese-kun__, …oh my… I LOVE YOU! Thank you so much! It'll go more into why Arthur is so affected by the Holocaust as opposed to the other mass genocides he's surely witnessed. __megu__, ahh, new reviewer! Yes for sexual tension! You think they're in character? Ah that means so much since it's my first Hetalia fic! I love new fans! __rein hitomi__, stalking since the first chapter? Ah, better late than never, my lovely! I love the Goo Goo Dolls too! Ah, I'd love to hear your ideas on what you think gives Al his power! I feel it would be good without a lemon too. I may put a short one in, but I don't know if I'll give them a full one. It just… doesn't seem to fit! But we'll see. __Fynniona__, YES FOR UKUS! I'm happy you still like it! __AllTheLovelyBrains__, I shall blame your Wifi! I LOVE YOU TOO! __ZillaMeister__, ahhh, fellow History lover! I'm glad my A/N's amuse you! Really, I just ramble, but some people like them! September 16__th__ was also my birthday! So Mexico will have to share their holiday. __Kit-Usa__, I did enjoy the ghost scene! I may add more in too! __Guest21__, ahh, more Grim Reapers, probably not any more mystical creatures. They just… wouldn't fit. __communityfan__, haha, the card verse? I've heard of it, never worked with it… __Lyco__, patience, my dear! All questions shall be answered EVENTUALLY! Haha, I have NO patience, but let's pretend I do. __tetris__, I support getting an account! Reviewers PM me all the time, so I enjoy accounts! We must have fluff! __Aerowave__, late reviews are fine, since my updates tend to be late! Ehehe… I enjoy comforting Arthur too… He's just too easy to love with his massive man brows! Now, enough of my rambling! On with the huffin' story~!_

* * *

_Collide_

_(Howie Day)_

_[The dawn is breaking, a light shining through. You're barely waking, and I'm tangled up in you, yeah. I'm open, you're closed. Where I'll follow, you'll go. I worry I won't see your face light up again…]_

October 7th, 1942.

Arthur stood on the edge of the clearing, totally exhausted. It had been a busy week, and he had taken countless more souls, including more from another mass extermination.

The difference? This time the Jews weren't gassed. They were lined up and shot like animals. That was two days ago in Ukraine, and he had gone to Alfred yet again, seeking comfort. Of course, the American would never push him away.

Today, there is a hint of cold in the air, and the season is clearly getting ready to change. Alfred has been excited about this lately, because it's getting closer and closer to being an entire year since he's been stationed in London.

The American found a clearing outside all the buildings, and was even more ecstatic to find that his fellow soldiers either didn't know it was there, or didn't care. He and Arthur have designated it their meeting place, where they can meet during the day, and continue to lie together in the bed at night.

As stated, Arthur is standing in the clearing, observing the little patches of grass. He can remember a time when the entire city was covered in grass, forests, and animals of every kind. Now it's a different story.

The city is visible from here, and he can hear the busy sounds of everyday life. He looks up when he hears footsteps running toward him, and opens his arms for Alfred, who leaps at him from quite a distance.

"Arthur! You're here early!" he says happily as he lands in the Reaper's arms.

"No, love, you're just late," Arthur smiles.

"Ah, sorry. I got caught up… I have news for you! Remember two days ago when you said you had to take all those souls in Ukraine?"

Death cringes at the memory, and holds the man tighter.

"Yes."

"Well, there was an eye-witness there! He saw the whole thing, and reported it!"

Arthur looks at him in alarm.

"An eye-witness? Hmm, I don't recall anyone else there… But then again, I was a little absorbed in what I was…doing…"

Alfred sits on the ground and pats the spot beside him, signaling for the Reaper to join him.

"No, he was there! He said… The Nazi's were lining them up and…shooting them point blank…"

Arthur nods. He's been leaving out the more gruesome details, because he doesn't like to make Alfred worry.

"And… He said there was a one year old…that also got killed… as well as many children… And they lined them up after they were dead…"

"No. They stripped them down, lined them up with those that were already dead, and then shot them."

Alfred winces, and looks at the ground.

"I… I just don't understand… How could people be so evil?" he asks quietly. Arthur feels the pull in his chest he always feels when the American is hurt, and he pulls the man's head against his chest.

"You have to understand, Al. These people don't think they're doing anything wrong. These Nazi's… They teach that Jews aren't human. They've blamed all their problems on these poor souls, and they're…going to do whatever they have to in order to keep believing that."

Alfred wraps his arms around the Reaper, and makes them fall backward so he can rest on top of him.

"What's going to happen? I knew this war was different but… I really have no clue…what's going to happen now… All these people being shot like dogs…"

Arthur looks up to the cloudy sky, thinking about the past.

"From about 1450 to 1792, Roman Catholics and some Protestants killed tons of people they believed to be worshippers of Satan," he says.

"…How…many died?" Alfred asks.

"Ahh… It was quite a long time… I'd say about 90,000 in all. That also includes the murder of those they believed to be witches. Your own country, starting in 1492 after Columbus discovered America, is directly responsible for the mass murder of the Aboriginals. That's from Canada all the way to South America."

Alfred nuzzles into his chest, making a small squeaking noise.

"My country invaded Australia in 1770, and killed their Aboriginals also. There was the mass murder in the Congo… There was the French revolution starting in 1787. I took countless souls there as well. Some of the most gruesome ways you could think of to die. There was the Spanish Inquisition of 1478 all the way to 1834. The murders of the Trujillo dictatorship…"

Alfred's fingers wrap around his, and Arthur brings the man's hand to his mouth to kiss it, before he places it against his chest.

"The murders of believed witches in America. The entire period of slavery, every war in the history of mankind… The more modern murders of Stalin, Mussolini, Tojo, and now Hitler…"

"Why are you telling me all of this…?" Alfred asks.

"Because, love. Every country has its own dark background. And every man in the world is capable of the most gruesome acts, if he believes he is right."

"Even me…?"

"Even you. It is in our nature to kill. It always has been."

"If you've seen all that… Why is it just this war that makes you so upset?"

Arthur sighs, holding the warm hand closer to himself.

"I don't know. I've always seen man invent more innovative ways to kill each other. I've been around for the guillotine, the first firearm, the cannons, the Gatling gun, machine guns, the first use of chemical warfare in the first World War. I've seen people burned alive, hung, lynched, decapitated. I've seen men treated like property, women raped, children killed… Yet all I can think of now are the screams I hear in those camps. The pleas for mercy…"

Alfred crawls up so they're face to face, and he kisses Arthur's chin, causing green eyes to widen.

"Al?"

"I can… I can always try to help drown the screams out…"

Arthur smiles at him warmly, pulling their mouths together gently, and then adding more heat by deepening the kiss. His fingers entwine in sandy blonde hair, and their mouths are angled to fit together like a puzzle piece. Alfred releases a small moan at the contact, and crawls on top of the Reaper more firmly to get more access to the mouth he's assaulting.

"Mmmm, Al… You're my only remedy…"

Alfred pulls away for air, resting his mouth against Arthur's neck. He kisses the skin there, and welcomes the Brit's arms as they wrap around his torso.

"Do you think…it's because of me the war is affecting you so bad?" he asks.

"Hmm?"

"Well… You've seen all that horrible stuff… And you said it's only recently that it's bothered you so bad. Maybe it's because you met me."

"It is because I met you," Arthur says simply, causing Alfred to snap up to look at him in alarm. "Don't look like that, Al. It's not a bad thing."

"It _is _a bad thing! It's your job to take these souls and… I'm making it harder for you!"

"It's only because of me that I'm taking them to begin with. That's hardly your fault."

"You never did say why you're the Grim Reaper now."

"That's a story best saved for another time."

"You always say that though! When can I know?" Alfred asks, his eyes wide and innocent looking as he hovers over the Brit's face. Arthur bites his lip to try and hold himself back from ravishing the man on top of him, but it's hard when the cause of his inner turmoil is so close.

"When it's time. I promise, I'll tell you when it's time."

Alfred puffs his cheeks out in an obvious pout, causing Arthur to lose his inner battle of not assaulting him, and he pulls the American's mouth to his hungrily.

"Arthur…_ Arthur…ahh…_"

The Reaper pulls away to look at the flushed face of the American, marveling at the bruised lips before he claims them again.

"My word, Al. I love kissing you…"

Alfred mewls a response, moving his tongue languidly with Death's. Their hands wrap together again, and their lips part so the young man can breathe.

"Can… Can I at least know…what time period you're from?" he asks, panting for air.

"Ahh. I'm from a time where man didn't worry so much about killing each other as they worried about not dying in general."

"Huh?"

"I was born in 1327, and I died in 1350."

"So you were twenty-three years old? How did you die?"

"You're lying on top of a piece of history, Al. I was one of the many to die from the Black Death."

'The Black Death?"

"The Plague. Of course, I died a little before the actual disease itself killed me, but it was my own fault, as I said."

"…That doesn't make any sense!"

"It will soon. Never you mind about it now. Let's just… Let's just lie here for a while… Let's forget everything else."

"Arthur!"

"Shhhh. Can't you do that for me?"

Alfred pouts again, giving him a small glare before he rests his head against Arthur's chest.

"No fair saying things like that… You know I'd do anything for you…" he grumbles.

Arthur smiles a true smile, feeling weightless for the first time in centuries.

_[I'm quiet, you know. You make a first impression. I've found I'm scared to know I'm always on your mind. Even the best fall down sometime. Even the stars refuse to shine. Out of the back you fall in time. I somehow find, you and I collide.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: I love putting so much history in here! You have no idea… It's like…as orgasmic as using proper grammar in everyday life! YES!_

_ America: …Okay?_

_ England: I agree. Using proper grammar is quite important._

_ Sachi: It really is! I text all my friends in complete sentences. They always laugh at me. It's important though! If you're not going to properly learn a language, don't speak it at all! The worst I do is use contractions, but that's only because it's time saving. I'M FROM ALABAMA, AND I SAY 'AIN'T' WILL NEVER BE A WORD! _

_ America: Can we, um… Get back to the story now? You're turning into a grammar Nazi…_

_ Sachi: Oh, right. Review for love! You know I love reading and responding! _

_ England: Also, it inspires her to write faster. She responds to force._

_ Sachi: …Gee, thanks. _


	10. Chapter 10

_Hello my dears! I actually got some time to work on this story! I finished my other one, and I'm doomed to start another… (Even though it's KIND OF my fault…) But anyway, I actually have something to say to all of you. I suffered a weird conversation tonight full of judgment. So, even if it's just for a short time, I want you all to take a step back every now and then, and just watch the world go by. If it seems like a weird request, it means you take life way too seriously. So, heed my words, because they're important! Now, we need to get on to the love! __91RedRoses__, that's you? Ah… If I turn my head, will I see you? __Quiet. Crash__, you're jealous of ME? Ahahahaha! Seriously?! All I can say is, you really shouldn't be. Really. I'm glad you're joining me! __Black wolf White wolf77__, I am updating! __Kats With Shamrocks__, ah, another Alabamian! I'm tempted to ask where…but that'd be creepy. Oh, what the hell, what part?! I'm close to Tennessee now. __Shite Anonym__, I always try to make you learn while you read! It's important! __Casey Hence__, I talk like that all the time! I'm such a grammar Nazi… It's a little sad. But not so much. __Aerowave__, I love writing the history! It's…oh, it's just so amazing. __Pennilee__, ahh… Is America life itself? Well. Close! Really close! __ninjaco0kieXD__, questions are answered when the person being asked isn't lazy. So, I can't answer those. Keep reading~! __Fynniona__, Arthur has certainly seen a lot. It's got to be a tough job. __ZillaMeister__, I'm totally in love with your knowledge of history. Yom Kippur indeed! Glad you like how I'm portraying Al and Arthur! __darkestlight96__, I'm a cruel person? Ah… I am. You think I'm doing good? I'm making you like the fandom? I love you! Really! Now, we must get on with the story~! _

_ This chapter dedicated to__ incidentalmusic__, for always listening to my ranting, even though it makes her break her cigarettes. She helped me hash through this chapter. It means a lot! I used the song you sent me!_

* * *

_Public Pervert_

_(Interpol)_

_[If time is my vessel, then learning to love might be my way back to sea. The flying, the medal, the turning above, these are just ways to be seen. We all get paid. Yeah, some get faith before they die. But the stars we will navigate through the holes in your eyes. How many days will it take to end? How many ways to reach your hand?]_

December 17th, 1942.

Arthur is waiting in the clearing for his favorite blonde. This visit might not necessarily be a happy one.

Not this time.

A week ago, Arthur took the soul of someone across the world from them. An American.

An American with the last name Jones.

He sighs, throwing his head back to look at the night sky. They agreed it would be best to meet at night from now on, in case a wandering soldier ever made his way to the abandoned spot during the day. It wouldn't look too promising for anyone to see Alfred kissing mid-air.

No matter how funny the American thinks it would be.

He looks up to see the sandy blonde approaching him. Despite their constant contact, they hardly ever get to speak. As sad as it is, their meetings are almost always silent. Only when they know they are truly alone do they get to speak.

Since the revelation of the Death Camps surfaced, Alfred has been busy again. Arthur has been taking many more souls.

Their schedules, and their existences, were never meant to mingle.

Alfred looks up at the Reaper through his glasses, his eyes tired. He's moving sluggishly. Arthur holds his arms open, and welcomes the man to crash into him.

This time, he doesn't.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he says instead, his arms remaining stiffly at his side.

The Brit sighs, and looks back toward the sky.

"You know I couldn't," he answers simply. "I'm not supposed to let you know of anything, much less the lives I take."

"But he's my dad! He died a week ago, and you knew, and you never said a word!"

"That's the way things are sometimes, Al. We all see things we don't want to, and we learn things we wish we didn't. It happens."

Alfred looks toward the stars too, trying to see what Arthur could possibly find so fascinating.

"It's different now. I want… I want you to be able to tell me things…"

Death removes his hood, and settles his mint gaze on the adorable face of the American. He holds his arms out again.

"Come here, love."

"I don't want to. You lied to me."

Arthur snaps impatiently, waving his hands a little so the younger man huffs at him, but walks foward nonetheless. Death's arms close around him, and Alfred leans into the hold in spite of himself.

"Arthur…"

"I've told you so many times now. Anything we mess up...we're accountable for. If there's a shift in the balance of life and death, there will be consequences. I can't cross that barrier too many times," the Reaper explains.

"I know…"

"I'm sorry."

Alfred tugs him so they can settle in the grass, or lack thereof, since the winter air has killed most of it. They fall on the ground, and the young man rests his head against Arthur's chest. It seems to be his favorite way to lie down.

"Tell me… Did he suffer?"

Arthur closes his eyes.

"No. He didn't suffer. Your father died of a heart attack in his sleep. I doubt he felt a thing."

The American makes a choking noise, and Death combs his fingers through sandy locks in comfort.

"Shhh, poppet. Don't cry in this cold weather. Your face might freeze."

Alfred laughs quietly.

"I'm not a 'poppet'. And my face can't freeze just from crying. That's stupid."

"Maybe so. But it got you to laugh."

Both men settle into silence, staring at the starry sky.

"Do you know what?" Alfred asks suddenly.

"…No, I don't know _what_. I swear, that is an awful saying-"

"Don't correct me right now! The British House of Commons was told about the mass executions of the Jews today."

"Oh?"

"Yup! America says the crimes will be avenged!"

Arthur feels a slight tugging in his chest.

"Tell me, Al. If you were given the chance to go to Germany and fight…would you?"

"Huh? What kind of question is that? Of course I would!"

"I was afraid of that…"

Alfred props himself up by placing his hands flat against the Reaper's chest, and he meets the worried gaze of the Brit.

"You're scared for me? Ahaha! I told you, heroes never die in these stories! I'll always be around for those that need me. It's what makes me a hero!"

"Everything I've seen in this war… I don't want you to see it too. You're always looking at everything with such…optimism. I'd hate for you to grow sullen, like me."

"You're not like that. You remind me of Mattie sometimes. Always talking about how no one ever listens to you and stuff. I listened to him all the time; I just didn't agree with him. And I don't agree with you right now."

"That's not surprising. You can never make anything easy on me."

"No, I can't."

Alfred kisses him once chastely, and then does it again for good measure, before he rests his head against the Reaper's chest once more.

"Al…"

"I know you worry about stupid stuff all the time. I really don't know why, but it must suck to always have the weight of everything on your shoulders all the time."

"…Such wonderfully idiotic logic."

"Yup. Learned it from my dad. He always told me…it was okay to cry every now and then, because it only means you're alive. You feel. Only when you can't cry do you know you're dead."

Arthur observes the sky again, smiling wistfully.

"Your father sounds like a very intelligent man. You sure he wasn't British?"

Alfred laughs, a slight sniffling noise accompanying it.

"Nah, he was all American. My mom told me in her letter that she didn't tell me right away because she was afraid I'd want to come home for the funeral. I'm actually surprised she went, since they were never on great terms."

"It does seem rather odd that she wouldn't want you there."

"It's not that she didn't. She was afraid that it would take too much focus off what I'm doing here. See, my dad… He thinks I'm a hero…"

Arthur hears him sniffle again, and his hands move under his eyes to brush moisture away.

"And I can't forget that… Because my dad always wanted me to do something for my country."

"Your father was a World War One vet, huh?"

"Yeah, he was…"

"I see. Were you…close to Matthew's dad at all?"

"We were alright. I was always closer to my own dad though. Mattie used to get mad at me for going to visit him so often. He said I made Mom feel bad."

"Do you think she felt bad?"

"Nah. Mom knew. She always knew. Mother's intuition or something. What about you? What were your parents like?"

Arthur's fingers start to massage Alfred's scalp through his hair, and the Brit is delighted when a purring noise comes from the American's mouth.

"Mmmm, my father was a very devout Catholic. He was strict, I remember that much. My mother was quiet. Life was different then, of course. Women didn't play any other role besides housekeeper."

"Sounds like a hard time."

"Oh, it was never easy. One of my fondest memories is from time with my father. We were walking home one night, and it was a really starry night like tonight, and he actually stopped in his tracks for a whole five minutes to just gaze at the stars."

Alfred continues to purr quietly, his hands moving to roam over Arthur's chest while he talks.

"Why is that so important?"

"See, that's just it. You people nowadays are so…busy all the time! You never sit back and enjoy anything. It's always what you're going to do _now_, and after you figure that out, it's about _tomorrow_. Have you never sat back and relaxed?"

"Of course I have!"

"Lie here for a moment, and look up with me."

"…This is really stupid, Arthur."

The Reaper makes an indignant growl, and Alfred sighs as he tilts his head up to do as he was told.

"When I was alive, we didn't know about space like you all do today. To us, the heavens were a mystery. The world was flat. It was…simple. We were in the dark, but it was safe," Arthur says as they observe.

"It's a little more complicated than that now," Alfred laughs. "Every star could be a sun, and there could be other planets around it. Millions and millions, just never ending."

"Ah… I think it's wonderful to know things like that. It proves…we may not be alone."

"Why is that so wonderful?"

"Nothing is worse than to be all alone."

Alfred is quiet as he watches the sky like never before. The stars seem brighter, and even in the cold air, he feels warmth. When he looks up, he sees a tiny smile gracing Arthur's face, and he can't help but smile too.

He loves it when Death can see what he wants to see, and not the things he doesn't.

He wants to drown out the screams.

He leans up to kiss Arthur's jaw, and trails kisses until he reaches the Brit's lips.

"Mmm, Al… What's that for?" Arthur laughs when the younger man nuzzles into him.

"You're not alone…"

Arthur blinks in surprise, and then holds the sandy blonde closer.

It's an irrefutable truth.

He's not alone anymore. Not with Alfred by his side.

_[Oh, so swoon baby starry nights. May our bodies remain. As weak we move, I'll feed you light, baby. May our bodies remain. Oh yeah, in history, I'll treat you right, baby. I'm honest that way, hey. Swoon baby starry nights. May our bodies remain.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: This chapter happened completely by accident… _

_ America: Accident? _

_ England: She means she leaves things to the last minute, and then lucks out by producing these things she calls chapters._

_ Sachi: …Right… That's one way to put it…_

_ America: I thought it was good!_

_ Sachi: Thank you, Al! I appreciate support!_

_ England: Where are we going with this story anyway? _

_ Sachi: Somewhere sad if you don't stop being mean… Now, review for love! You knooooooow you want it. ;D_


	11. Chapter 11

_Hello, my lovelies! I'm sorry for the wait… You know, I get blocked sometimes. I've been having a hell of a time trying to churn this chapter through my brain. It's easy for me to get unblocked, once I find inspiration. (Lately that's been the problem…) SO. I'm sorry! __Casey Hence__, England can't be nice! It's against his belief system! __darkestlight96__, I haven't done that in so long either. Maybe that's why I'm stressed. __Meep__, ah, hello to you! Wait…is that a threat?! Izaya can protect me from ANYTHING1 __incidentalmusic__, thank you, my dear! __Kats With Shamrocks__, Mobile! Go, fellow Alabamian! __Quiet. Crash__, he loves you too! As much as he can… I'm glad you've been here since the beginning! __ZillaMeister__, where are we going? Ah… Wouldn't it be best for you to just trust me? Because, you know, I have a plan… *cough* __Pennilee__, I try! __91RedRoses__, Arthur worries very much for Al! __Aerowave__, the cuddling was very cute~! __Kit-Usa__, I'm good? You think so?! YES! __AllTheLovelyBrains__, your Wifi hates me? Man… I'm honored you catch up on my stuff when it lets you though! I love you~! __Fynniona__, yes, you get it! It's quite important to look at the sky at night! Now, let's all observe as I attempt to get unstuck. ON WITH THE STORY!_

* * *

_Scream of the Butterfly_

_(Acid Bath)_

_[A creature made of sunshine, her eyes were like the sky. Rabbit howls like something old as we twitch to her lullaby. The scalpel shines in God's sunshine street lights whisper pain. Down here the poison stream our God has gone insane. She smells like a child with flowers in her hair, with blood on her hands into the sun she stares, she feels it die. I heard her cry… Like the scream of the butterfly.]_

February 3rd, 1943.

The New Year has come, and things are relatively the same…on this end, at least.

Alfred has been happily meeting Arthur on a regular basis now, the two becoming even closer. It…was truly something else.

Arthur is used to the American's presence now of course, but every now and then he still likes to marvel at the man like he's made of sunshine. Hell, if someone came along and told him Alfred was really just an angel from Heaven, he wouldn't doubt it for an instant.

It's gotten unbearably cold again, but Alfred is as stubborn as usual.

"What's the point of having free time if I can't spend it with you?" he asks as they meet in their spot again. Things are fairly silent today, because the Allies are celebrating a victory.

The Germans met their first major defeat just the day before in the Battle of Stalingrad.

"We could meet in the barracks again. I'm more than certain all of your friends are out at the pubs to celebrate," Arthur replies, stroking the younger man's hair in an attempt to flatten the insufferable cowlick on his head.

It pops back up, as always.

"I don't like meeting in there. It's too stuffy. Besides, I'm fine," Alfred says brightly, sending the Reaper a warm smile.

He's shaking though. Arthur can see it.

"_You_ truly are the definition of the word 'idiot'."

"Hey!"

Smiling fondly, the Brit tugs the shivering man to him, the electric feeling between them sparking again. Alfred buries his face in Death's neck, inhaling deeply.

"You know…for someone who's not really alive… You smell good…"

"…I'll take that as a compliment, seeing as how you always associate with dead people," Death says flatly.

"It sounds creepy when you say it like that!"

"It is creepy."

The American pouts up at him, still shivering as he places his arms in the robe.

"Let's l-l-lie down…" he suggests, trying to form a logical sentence.

Arthur simply rolls his eyes, allowing himself to be dragged down to be made the man's personal pillow. He feels vibrations from the sandy blonde's shaking, and he sighs as he rolls his eyes, turning his head to observe blue eyes staring back at him.

"Are you certain you don't want to go inside? I feel like I'm holding a penguin," Arthur says.

"I'm s-s-s-sure. I l-l-like it out h-h-here!"

The sun is steadily getting lower on the horizon, signaling the temperature will drop even more soon. It looks like snow in the dark clouds, so the Brit knows it's only a matter of time.

Ever since he was little, he's loved the snow. So white, clean, and _pure_. In his time, it was a signal of purity. Untainted and cold.

Alfred reminds him of snow.

No matter how much he's trampled, he always seems to remain innocent. He is a rarity in the world of man. However…

When there's something pure, there will always be a desire to taint it. Even Arthur is guilty of that.

He looks at the man curled up on his chest, slowly receding into a tiny ball. He chuckles at the childish American.

"Are you _sure _you're not cold?"

"S-Stop ask-k-king that!"

The Brit places his hands on the lean man's shoulders, rubbing them quickly to help provide heat. Alfred groans happily, leaning into the hold.

"Ahhh…f-f-feels g-good."

Immediately, Death feels a surge of heat at the words.

Like any man, he has his urges. Of course, he's a member of the afterlife now, but still…not really. He's a little stuck in between.

Nevertheless, Alfred is basically pressing his luck. How could anyone in the world be so damn adorable?! Arthur feels thoroughly accomplished that he's been with the man for over a year, and able to control his urges.

Still…

All things come to an end.

"Are…you still cold?" he asks quietly, his voice taking on a more tone, sounding foreign to his own ears.

"N-Not so much…"

Arthur bites his lip, observing Alfred's blissful face. The blue eyes are closed, hidden behind a slight glare on the glasses from the setting sun. The American must sense he's being stared at, because he cracks an eye open to smile warmly at the Reaper.

Arthur gulps. The sun has made those perfect eyes glow…

"W-What's wrong…A-Arthur?"

The Reaper is holding on to his last bit of sanity now, trying _very _hard not to give into his urges.

"Nothing, love. Nothing at all."

"Heh… You're l-l-looking at m-me like you wanna…e-eat me."

SNAP.

Arthur pulls his face closer, so his lips can meet the taunting ones. Alfred purrs quietly, opening his mouth without needing to be asked.

Their tongues meet, and their passion heats up. The Reaper can't stop himself from rolling over, pinning the strong soldier to the ground.

"A-Arthur…"

"Still cold, huh?"

"Ahh…y-yeah…"

Arthur sucks on the devilish muscle in his mouth, biting into it gently, making the sandy blonde release a groan of desire.

"Do…you want me to help?"

A blank stare is his response.

"H-How?"

Oh, all of the ways…

He uses one hand to hold Alfred's chin, slamming their mouths together again. The American sighs happily, thoroughly distracted by the kiss. He's unaware of the roaming hand.

Until it makes contact.

"Ahhh… Ahh, _Arthur_…"

Death presses down more firmly on the rapidly hardening arousal between the soldier's legs. He feels strong hands grip his arm, trying to move it away.

"S-S…Stop…hah…"

"No, Al. I'm warming you up."

Alfred's head flops back against the grass, his arms still uselessly trying to tug the hand away as it speeds up. His mind is emptied as Arthur begins kissing his jaw, pausing at his ear.

"Mmm, Al… Your voice…"

"Stop…s-saying…stupid…t-t-things…"

Arthur makes a disapproving snarl as he bites the man's earlobe, earning another cry of pain mingled with lust.

"_Mmmnnn… Arthur…_"

Death speeds up again, pulling back to look at his love's face.

If his heart was beating, it would stop.

Alfred's mouth is open, breathing heavily before he bites his lip to try and silence himself. His glasses are askew, in danger of falling off his face. His hair… His hair is everywhere, tickling Arthur's face as he kisses along the man's perfect face again.

He loves this man. He _loves _him.

"Ahhh…Ar…Arthur…"

"Mm. Still want me to stop?"

Alfred squeaks, placing his hands in golden yellow hair, pulling the Reaper's face back to his.

"Don't stop…"

Arthur groans with desire, moving down to devour the man again. He swallows the tiny whimpers as they're released, and he presses harder whenever he feels the American is growing closer to the edge.

"It's alright. Let go, Al."

Nails dig into his shoulders as the soldier throws his head back, arching his spine so his hips thrust forward into Death's hand. He topples over the edge with a lewd moan, still biting his lip to try and muffle himself.

"Ar…_Arthur…Arthur…Ahhhhh…_"

Arthur cups his face, staring lovingly into the man's sapphire eyes.

"Al…I…"

A scream shatters the silence, and both men jump off each other from shock.

"What was that?" Alfred asks, no longer stuttering.

"I… I'm not sure…" Arthur pulls his list out, checking for new names in the area. To his horror, a familiar one pops up.

_Joseph Murphy_.

Murphy… Alfred's friend.

He looks at the American in guilt, knowing he has a job to do. Alfred stares at him blankly.

"Well?" he asks.

"Wait here…"

"Fuck that! I'm going with you!"

They make their way toward the direction the scream was heard in. Alfred squeaks when they behold the remains of a building, a pool of red slowly circling around it.

"Who is that?"

Arthur doesn't respond, because he's seen Murphy's face from the other side of the ruins. The building seems to be cutting him in half. He winces when he hears Alfred's voice again.

"MURPHY!"

The young man runs to his fellow soldier, who's still alive, but only just.

"J-Jones…"

"Don't talk, stupid! I'll call for help!"

Arthur grabs his shoulder as he tried to run by, tugging him back.

"Arthur, what the hell?! I've gotta get a medic!"

"And do what exactly?"

"Save him!"

Arthur pulls Alfred into his chest, holding him close.

"It's Murphy's time to die."

Alfred thrashes in the hold.

"No! No, I can save him! I can save him! Let me go!"

"You can't save him! He's suffering!"

"I can fucking _save_ him!"

"He's cut in half, Al!"

The man ceases his struggles, looking up into mint green eyes with pure horror.

"I-In half? In half…"

"Shhh, love. Shhh. Close your eyes."

Alfred keeps them open defiantly, but doesn't turn to observe. He can't.

He hears shuffling as Death moves around, no doubt collecting the soul of his friend. He looks up at the rapidly darkening sky, and feels something cold against his cheek.

"It's snowing…" he says to no one in particular. Arthur answers him anyway.

"I've been waiting for the snow. It seems you're going to have to walk back in this."

"Well… I do have a death to report now…"

The Brit walks behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry…" _I took your innocence, and then took your friend. You'll hate me forever…_

Alfred chokes, placing his hands on the Reapers. Their vision is soon consumed by white as the snow begins to fall more quickly.

It is the end of innocence for Private Alfred Jones.

_[Sunshine in a house of flames. She likes it when she gets it, but it's never felt the same. Surgery in the house of dissection. When your candle burns out, I will resurrect you. She runs through the field of daises. Yeah, it's just a shame that they eat their own babies. Who cares? 'Cause the air is free. When you get there, will you kiss the dead for me?]_

* * *

_ Sachi: Whoo! I can't even tell you how long this took… I need more inspiration! _

_ America: It's a short chapter… It took long?_

_ England: What gives?! I get to touch him, and then you kill someone?!_

_ Sachi: *shuffles feet* Um… It had to happen like that… _

_ England: *huffs*_

_ America: Review for love! Things are about to get very real, very soon!_

_ Sachi: Yes! Inspire me~!_


	12. Chapter 12

_It's time for an update again~! We're almost getting to the good stuff in this story! I know the chapters seem like fillers, but really, it's important so you can all know how exactly Arthur and Al's relationship is growing. I promise I have a direction! It's just taking me a little bit to get there because of the timeline I've decided to use! Now that we have that clear, let's get on with your love! __91RedRoses__, don't growl at me! It's necessary! __Quiet. Crash__, D: Are you insinuating that I'm sadistic?! __Kit-Usa__, oh, man you compared me to Edgar Allen Poe? I LOVE him. I love YOU. __ZillaMeister__, wow, I got a long review from you! I feel so INSPIRED! I'm glad you thought it made sense in the end! I'm trying to keep it more in tune with the wartime scenario, and things happened VERY fast at that time. I'm so glad you think it's going so well… AHHHH! I love you! __ninjaco0kieXD__, no, they didn't do it. He took Al's innocence by being the first to touch him in such a way. Heh, you're so funny! __Hikari__, ahh, it made you cry? YAY! That means you felt the story~! You're so welcome, my dear! __Fynniona__, yes, poor Al suffered. Glad you liked it! __xXYoraXx__, ahhh, you reviewed so much! Thank you! I'm so glad you think I'm doing a good job! __Hikari Bara__, oh, wow… What an amazing thing to say! I'm so glad you think so… It means a lot! You should look up DRRR! It's amazing too! Now, congrats to this story for breaking 100 reviews! On with the story!_

* * *

_Wake Up_

_(Arcade Fire)_

_[Something filled up my heart with nothing. Someone told me not to cry. But now that I'm older, my heart's colder, and I can see that it's a lie.]_

June 6th, 1944

Over one year. Over one year. Over _one year_.

Arthur hasn't seen Alfred in over one year.

Why? Because it's for the best.

Ever since that day…that fateful day where he took the Private's friend, he hasn't been able to summon the courage to talk to him.

How can he ever apologize? How can he even begin? There's nothing to be done, nothing to be said. He can never apologize enough for what he did.

It's not even about Murphy, or at least not one-hundred percent about him. It's about what he did to _Alfred. _He took advantage of him. Despite everything he told himself _not_ to do, he did it anyway.

Of course, he's kept tabs on the American. He knows the Private left to be part of the invasion. The Allies are working hard to invade German occupied France. _Today_.

That's why he's here, watching from afar as the show starts. What a hell of a show to have a front row seat to.

There's shouting as the battle starts. Death can hear bullets, mostly from machine guns.

The Germans have an advantage.

He's terrified. He's scared for Alfred Jones. He's kept his list handy, hoping to every saint in high Heaven Alfred's name doesn't appear on it.

There are more shouts, expletives said in various languages; Allied or Axis, Death doesn't know.

The sea churns once more, the waves seeming to grow higher as the battle escalates.

Soldiers are shot, and Death is there. He does his job, as he's always done. He still can't know exactly whose names will appear on his list until it's almost time. He doesn't get much notice.

That's the major disadvantage of being a substitute Grim Reaper. He doesn't get to know much. Of course, the _actual _Reaper is far too twisted and lazy to do his damn job, and it _is _Arthur's punishment, and blah, blah, blah.

As far as he cares, it doesn't matter. He only wishes he knew more so he could help…

So he could help…

It doesn't matter.

The bullets continue, the shouts grow, more die, and the sun is still barely risen. The Germans are safely hidden, the Allies are hopelessly exposed, and Arthur continues to look.

Look for Alfred.

Look for Alfred.

Look for…

He can feel him. He's been able to for a long time. It's been hell not seeing him. Arthur has never been a strong man, which is why he's in this predicament anyway. Ever since that day…

* * *

He was sick. He was _very _sick. His parents both were bedridden, his father slipping in and out of consciousness. It was cold outside, and had been for months, though he hadn't been able to go out every day.

Most of his friends were already dead, eaten alive by the sores on their bodies. He thought he was fine, until his head started pounding mercilessly. Then came the vomiting…then his limbs hurt…then…

Then the swellings on his neck turned black, and he knew he didn't have much longer. His parents were already too far gone by this point, or so he told himself. Little did any of them know…

Arthur wasn't about to die. Not without his last hope.

He had always been an avid follower of the occult, always fascinated by the thought of mere mortals having more power than they were supposed to. He knew very well that anything he sent out would come back to him.

But it had to be better than this.

One of the lumps on his neck burst open, and it oozed blood and traces of pus. His lumps were becoming various, and each time one split, the room was filled with a putrid smell of death and rot.

He tried feebly to get off his bed, and failed miserably. He tried again, managing to make his feet touch the floor. He fell, but at least he was able to crawl to his book in the far corner. He had to practically crawl over both of his parents, who were in the room with him on the floor.

They had wanted to die together like a family.

Arthur managed to open his book, and feebly read the incantation aloud. He wanted to heal himself.

He didn't care what demon took his body, what deity ate his soul, what he had to give in order to gain.

He only wanted freedom from this pain. The only other option was suicide, but…

Arthur didn't want to die. He was scared. God help him, he was scared.

He was taught his entire life to embrace death, which was something he should _want_, so he could meet his maker face to face.

He didn't want that.

He never wanted that.

He wanted to look at the stars…

He wanted to meet someone special…

He wanted to _live…_

The incantation was read louder as he got more volume in his voice. He was able to use some of his blood from his swellings as an offer…

Nothing happened.

Nothing… He had wasted his time. He knew then that it was hopeless. He was going to die.

"So… You were trying to save yourself?" a voice asked from behind him.

"W-Who's…there…?" Arthur asked.

"Oh, no one too important. Your parents are dead," the voice replied nonchalantly. Arthur heard footsteps, and looked up to see a hooded figure over him.

"Dead…? They're…dead?"

"Oh, yes. Quite dead. You know, maybe you should have tried to save them too. It would have been nice of you."

Arthur noticed the voice was full of amusement, not malice. There were no traces of an accent at all. The voice was simply deep and unwavering.

"…They…were too…far gone…"

"What an excuse! You're pretty far too, kiddo. As a matter of fact, you're next on my list."

A long list was shoved in his face, the writing too fine to make out.

"I've known about you for some time, you see. My list said you were going to try something like this. I was actually hoping you would try to be noble and save more than yourself. But, you're like all humans."

"Y-You're…not human…?"

"Oh, no. As long as there has been life, I've been here."

Arthur coughed, blood oozing from his mouth. The taste was putrid.

"You're dying, my friend."

"I…I don't…want…to die… S-Scared…"

The voice laughed, the figure stooping by him. Arthur was losing his vision rapidly.

"Tell me, were you trying to summon me, or someone to make you live longer?" the voice asked.

"A…Are you…a demon…?"

"Are you actually worried for your soul?"

"Don't…don't believe…in souls…"

"Haha! Well, you are certainly rare. The particular spell you were reading is a sacrificial spell. Did you know that?"

"Sa…Sacrificial…?"

"Yes. You just sacrificed your parents to save yourself."

Arthur blinked, trying to see the masked face in front of his own.

"R-Really…?"

The voice laughed again.

"No! Ahahaha, no, not at all! Your parents were scheduled to die today, and you're scheduled in the next few minutes. Your spell failed, by the way, but I'm sure you already figured that out."

"Y-You…You're the…the Reaper…"

"Right you are! Now, do you know why you can see me?"

"…"

"Oh, not wanting to talk anymore? Well, to answer myself, you can see me because you're dying. Yes, dying. That thing you're so scared of."

"…N-No…"

"Well, I have a little idea I think you might like. Tell me, Arthur, how would you like to live forever?"

* * *

Arthur blinks as the blasts grow louder on the beach of Normandy. He feels the warmth in his being as Alfred draws near him. He knows the American can feel him too.

They're close together for the first time in over a year. It's almost too much to bear. Amidst the Armageddon around them, they both try to find each other.

The bullets fly even faster, and the blasts multiply. Arthur screams as the man next to him is shot in the head, knocking his helmet off. He takes the man's soul, checking the new name off.

He freezes.

On the list, under all the other names that just appeared, he finds a new one.

_Alfred Jones._

_[With my lightning bolts a glowing, I can see where I am going to be when the Reaper, he reaches and touches my hand.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: Sorry for the long wait you guys! I know most of you won't be happy with me about this chapter!_

_ America: Y-You…killed me!_

_ England: *angry face*_

_ Sachi: Um…*cough* If you want to know what happens next, I suggest you review~! Sorry we had to skip so much time, it was necessary for the story! Until next time, my lovelies!_


	13. Chapter 13

_Wow! Man, you guys spoiled me last chapter! Let me get this straight… I give you romance and fluff, and I get six or seven reviews, but I kill someone, and I get fifteen? Hmm…paradox. Anywho~ based on the overwhelming entirely positive feedback, I'm updating sooner than planned! And you better love me for it, because I'm EXHAUSTED, and I'm updating anyway! So, on to the love! __Casey Hence__, um…*cough* I didn't make the list! Death did! __darkestlight96__, yes you will! __luckycat222__, I'm so glad you liked it! The flashbacks are fun to write! (I wrote them a lot in another story.) __Cheese-kun__, haha, I promise, I'll work it out for you! __Ember Hinote__, say what you want! It got you to review! Amazing, you say? YOU'RE amazing! Thank you! __Shite Anonym__, so much love to you too! Don't get shot! __Quiet. Crash__, don't huddle in the corner! I'm only a sadist sometimes! *cough* Most of the time… __Izaya-neko__, *hugs you through screen* Thank you! __Lunar Iris__, haha, I think exciting is an excellent word for it! Thanks for your feedback! __ZillaMeister__, don't die with your endings! I'm updating, I'm updating! __Guest__, ah, thank you! I promise, I wouldn't end it that way, haha. __91RedRoses__, YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! __Silent-Nevermore__, don't diiie! Just think of how you love it, and how I love you! __darkingflame__, oh, wow! That's an amazing thing to say! __Hikari Bara__, ahhh, I suggest watching it, just because it's more entertaining as far as watching Izaya in action goes. (I LOVE Izaya.) __aurorage__, pssssshhhh, first review in 12 chapters?! You're in trouble! Ahh, I found separate websites that said different dates, so thanks for the correction. I'm great with American history, but world history was much more to remember! Alfred can't help but be annoying! He's America! Hahaha! __ninjaco0kieXD__, you'll soon know! it will all be okay! Calm down! Now, thank you for your lovely reviews! They made me happy, really! And so your present is a faster update! On with the story!_

* * *

_Passenger Seat_

_(Death Cab for Cutie)_

_[I roll the window down, and then begin to breathe in. The darkest country road, and the strong scent of evergreen, from the passenger seat as you are driving me home. Then looking upwards, I strain my eyes to try to tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites, from the passenger seat as you are driving me home.]_

Terror.

Sheer, utter terror.

Arthur stands on the beach, staring at the body below him, checking his list again.

It can't be Alfred. It can't be. He would feel if it was Alfred…

Right…?

He falls to his knees beside the corpse, blood steadily surrounding both of them.

Then, he feels it.

The warmth. The _warmth._

His head snaps up, trying to locate the man. If his name is on his list, he doesn't have long. The bullets seem to fly everywhere, and many of the men are crawling now to avoid being such easy targets.

He stands, bypassing other bleeding men, not caring to do his job anymore.

It's not important. None if it is important. Not anymore.

He's waited what seems like endless lifetimes to feel what he feels now. He loves Private Alfred F. Jones of the United States Army.

He runs through the men, seeing some of them shot along the way. They need him. They need him to relieve them of their pain.

Oh well. It's just one more thing he can pay for later.

Across the way, he sees the unmistakable stare of the American. That piercing blue gaze. The beautiful round face, which hasn't seemed to age a day.

Arthur, even now, is in complete awe of this man. In every way possible, he worships him.

Alfred seems to feel the connection, because he looks up, meeting Death's gaze as the distance between them closes.

Time seems to stop, everything freezes. Alfred's mouth falls open, and then it stretches into a grin.

Among the blood, carnage, screaming… They found each other again.

Arthur momentarily forgets everything he was scared of…until he sees the bullets starting to near his idiotic lover.

"AL! GET DOWN!" he shouts, but the young man only cups his ear, indicating he can't hear from so far away.

Arthur runs faster, faster, faster. He knows Alfred has no idea what danger he's in. How close his life is to being over.

Then, the explosions start. Grenades from both ends start flying, and the noise is so loud, so _pounding_, conversation is impossible.

He's so close, so close… Just a bit further!

Then, he sees it. The grenade, thrown toward Alfred. The grenade meant to kill him.

Not today. Not while Arthur is here.

He jumps, tackling Alfred down into the sand. His feet kick out, kicking the active grenade into an unknown direction. He's pinning Alfred down, causing their eyes to meet once more, this time up close. The grenade explodes in the distance, still too close for comfort.

"Al… Al…" he whispers, his hands tracing the perfect round face.

"…Y-You…saved me…"

Arthur falls against him, burying his face in the soldier's chest. He feels hands grip his hair, and he whines at their close proximity.

Then, he hears a pained cry, and he lifts his head to observe Alfred's face, which is scrunched in pain.

"Al?"

"Ahh, get off, get off!"

Death moves over, looking closely at the young man below him, scanning his body. He sees a steady pool of red oozing from Alfred's leg, trailing to his thigh.

"Al!"

"I…I think the…s-shrapnel got me…" the American hisses, biting his lip.

"I'm so sorry… I'm sorry…"

"Why…are you sorry? You saved me! I…I can survive a shrapnel…wound…"

Arthur shakes his head, cupping Alfred's face again.

"I left you. I left you alone because I was too scared to tell you anything. I took your innocence, and then I took your friend's soul in front of you… I'm truly despicable…"

Alfred's face remains passive, and then breaks into a gentle smile at the words.

"No… You think the worst of yourself… You know that? I think you're…you're perfect…"

Arthur smiles in spite of himself, actually laughing a little. He can't put any weight on the man, but _not _touching him is impossible. He wraps his hands in the American's, both entirely unaware of the war around them.

"W-Wait… Don't you…have a job to do?" Alfred asks quietly. "If I stay here long enough, a medic will come… I hope… I hope I can still fight…heh. This is no way for my hero career to be over!"

Mint green eyes roll at the idiotic statement.

"I don't care…about my job anymore. Al, I might be in a lot of trouble… I'm sorry. I never meant to involve you in any of this…"

"In what?"

Wordlessly, the list is raised, eye-level to the younger man. He scans the page, and then freezes.

"…I was supposed to die? You stopped… _Arthur!_"

"Most people would be happy they were saved!"

"Not when it's going to get you in trouble!"

"I told you, I don't care about that!"

"Well _I _do!"

They both glare at each other, stuck in their frivolous argument, which really, is entirely unimportant.

More men fall as the battle rages on, and still, Arthur won't leave Alfred.

"Please go… I'm fine…"

"No."

"Arthur-!"

"Listen to me for a second, you bumbling fool! Do you know what it's like to live for centuries? To be as old as I am, and see as much as I've seen? I can't just let things go! I… I've lived for myself long enough. If I'm meant to be punished, and death is the toll… I'll accept it this time, because my long life…brought me you."

"Arthur…"

"I love you, Al. I'm in love with you. I think I have been since that first night I saw you. You've made me feel things I thought I'd never feel. You make me enjoy being able to see you every day… And you make me want to give everything up… Nothing Death can do to me will be as bad as losing you…"

"There's…another Death?"

"Yes. There's another. The original. I'm not… I'm not really the Reaper, but you knew that in some way, right?"

The sandy blonde nods, his helmet slipping off a little.

"Truthfully, I'm as human as you. I'll explain later, if I can. We're running out of time…"

"Arthur?"

"Hmm?" The Brit looks down at his love, stroking his lips.

"…I love you too…"

Arthur smiles.

"I know you do, love. I know you do."

There's a spark between them, and Arthur's body starts to disappear.

"Arthur!"

"I told you… It's alright… It's going to be alright, Al…"

The American grabs the front of his robes, trying to grasp them, but can't. His eyes fill with tears as he uselessly swats at the material.

"You idiot! This is all because of me! Don't leave me, please! Arthur, please!"

"Shhhh… Relax for me… I want to absorb this moment with you. I want to remember always that you said you loved me…"

More noises come from around them, but Arthur is only focusing on the now hysterical voice of his lover. Alfred's eyes are spilling over, his mouth still moving, but no sounds coming out.

Arthur closes his eyes, evaporating from the world of the living for the first time in centuries, leaving Alfred behind.

When he opens them again, he finds himself face to face with the original Death.

_["Do they collide?" I ask, and you smile. With my feet on the dash, the world doesn't matter. When you feel embarrassed, then I'll be your pride. When you need directions, then I'll be the guide. For all time. For all time…]_

* * *

_ Sachi: We're nearing the end!_

_ America: At least I'm alive! *dance*_

_ England: What about me? What the hell am I?! I'm confused!_

_ Sachi: Reviews answer questions faster, my lovely massive man brows~! I think we'll have about…two chapters left, so I can stop at fifteen. Sounds like a plan to me, but don't hold me to it, for I have been known to go back and add bonus chapters… *cough* Review for loooooove! _


	14. Chapter 14

_It's been so long! I'm sorry! I know I left you all with a rather large cliffhanger, but I've been really busy and… Ugh, no excuses. I've been working on this chapter for a long time, in my mind, and hashing out how I want it to go. I have two completely different endings in my head, and I can't decide which one I should use. I'll figure it out as I go along though, because that's how I always write. So, let's get started, shall we? __darkestlight96__, yay, I wanted you to listen to the song! It's the soundtrack to the chapter! __Quiet. Crash__, I let you down! It was a slow update! Forgive me, ne? __Ember Hinote__, don't hide! It'll be alright…mostly… __awesomexboxgirl__, I hope you didn't jump! It was a long wait! __91RedRoses__, um…because I'm a sadist? D: __Hikari Bara__, I'm so glad you like DRRR! I'd love for you to check out my DRRR! stories! __Guest__, no, not Turkey~ Better! __ZillaMeister__, you were going to critique me?! Do you hate me?! D: *fetal position* You doubted meeeeeeeeeee! (thanks for reviewing) __ninjaco0kieXD__, don't forget Arthur! Sadness! __Fynniona__, I'm so happy you liked it! It's hard writing sappy moments on a battlefield. __Guest 2__, infinite fangirl scream? Are you still screaming?! __kokichi__, you've been reading all my stories, haha. Thank you so much! So glad you like them! Enough with my rambles! On with the story!_

* * *

_Swing Life Away_

_(Rise Against)_

_[Am I loud and clear, or an I breaking up? Am I still your charm, or am I just bad luck? Are we moving closer or are we just getting more lost? I'll show you mine, if you show me yours first. Let's compare scars, I'll tell you whose is worse. Let's unwrite these pages and replace them with our own words. ]_

Those scrutinizing red eyes. Arthur could never forget them. The original Death's human form was a complete narcissist in every way possible.

It doesn't seem like he would be, someone above the human race, in charge of collecting their souls, full of himself. But he is, and in every sense of the word.

He was the first time they met, and he still is. Arthur knows this will be an unpleasant visit.

"Well, hello there, Figgy Pudding!" The Reaper laughs, throwing his head back, his white hair so bright it makes Arthur squint.

"Don't call me that! And why are you using that accent? You sound like a German," the Englishman scoffs, straightening up his robes.

"I decided since the world has found itself in mass chaos, I'd join the most fun team, which is Germany," the Reaper explains. "If you get to go out and pretend you're a human still, can't I do the same thing?"

"…I'm not _pretending_. I am human."

"No, you're not, my substitute reaper. You're no longer human. That was our deal. Or do you not remember?"

* * *

Arthur was wheezing feebly, still trying to catch his breath. Death stood over him, an amused look in his red eyes.

"L-Live…forever?" the blonde asked, trying to roll over on his side.

"Yes, forever."

"How…is that possible…?"

"Ah, let me explain. Nothing is for free, of course. Your selfish human side is afraid of death, correct?"

Arthur nodded.

"Let's just say, hypothetically, that your silly little spell _did_ do something. Would you like to know what it is?"

Another nod was the response.

"You tried to cast an immortality spell. It wasn't just an incantation to help you get better, it was a spell to help you live forever. Now, it wasn't a complete success, but it did make me think of something."

Arthur succeeded in rolling over, and was now on his side facing the figure.

"I grow so tired of this job sometimes. I already know everything that's going to happen in you little human's lives. Every day I collect souls I already know, and I am forced to pretend to pity them. But, what if…I was to have a little…vacation, so to speak?"

"What…are you…driving at?"

"Here's my offer. I let you have immortal life, and you do my job for me. As long as the souls get collected, it doesn't matter who's taking them, right? You get to live forever, and I get a break. It sounds fair, right?"

"…Sounds…crazy…"

"Oh, fine then. I'll leave you here to die in the next four minutes, because that's how long you have until I take you," Death scoffed.

Arthurs mint eyes grew wide, and he feebly grabbed the hem of Death's robes.

"Please…no… I'll… I'll do it…"

"Shake my hand, and we have a deal, Figgy Pudding."

"Don't…call me that…"

Their hands clasped together, and the deal was made.

* * *

Arthur can remember that day, even now. He remembers how it felt to die in such a horrid way. As soon as he shook the Reaper's hand, he felt immediately…_perfect_ again. It wasn't just better, it was another feeling entirely.

He knew his human body was gone as soon as he made the deal, but what he got was so much _more_. It was an existence without attachments, without obligation. No one he had to pretend to feel sorry for, no one to put on a false face of pity.

Every soul he took was another match to fan his immortality, keeping him forever twenty-three, as far from dying as he dared to go.

And then, he met Alfred.

Someone willing to give everything to save people who meant _nothing_ to him, and it confounded him.

He couldn't understand the silly American, and it only fueled his interest more.

On the battlefield, he was given the choice. Should he save his own bleak existence, and keep taking souls for all eternity just so he would never die… Or should he save Alfred, his only reason for wanting to feel anything similar to being alive?

It was an obvious answer, at least to Arthur.

And he would have no regrets, even here with the fake German accented Reaper.

"I remember our bargain. I don't care anymore. Kill me if you must, I'm not afraid. My soul for Alfred's," Arthur says, eyes wide and jaw set. Death observes him.

"You know, I can't help but be intrigued by this new side of you, FP. Last time we spoke so much, you were a selfish little boy afraid of dying, and yet, here you are now, a man willing to give up everything for a mere mortal. What makes this Alfred F. Jones so awesome?"

"…Awesome…?"

"Yes, it's my new favorite human word. Now, answer the question."

"I… I can't give you a reason why he's everything to me… But he is. And I fully intend to honor my word. My soul for his. Just…let him live…"

The Reaper laughs loudly, tilting his head and chuckling jovially. His red eyes open and settle on the smaller man, whose face is still entirely serious.

"Well, well, well. FP has it all figured out, huh?"

"…Has what figured out?"

"When you've seen all that I've seen, and know all I know, you learn a few things, my friend," the Reaper says, his 'W's sounding like 'V's' in his fake German accent. "And the one thing I can tell you that is an irrefutable truth, is no man can live only for himself."

"…Come again?"

"Oh, come on, Figgy Pudding! You were a bratty soul, trying only to look out for yourself! How is that living, huh? In any life, how is that living? You know full well that it wasn't. You were simply alive, but that's not living."

"…Are you saying… You planned this?" Arthur asks in surprise.

Death smiles.

"I told you, I know everything about everything in your little human lives. I knew you would meet Alfred Jones. And I knew you would love him."

"…You knew… But how can he…see me…?"

"Alfred is a rarity in the world of the living. He's been given a gift. Look at him as…a bridge, so to speak."

"A bridge?"

"The link between life and death. It's a fine line, and Alfred is on the borderline."

Arthur looks at him, entirely lost. He sighs, running his fingers through golden locks.

"So…you knew all of this, and you still let it happen? Why would you do that? I've upset the balance of life and death!"

"Ahahahahaha! I told you already! I was bored, and it was fun. Now that you're all caught up, we need a solution to this little problem, don't we?"

"You're letting Al live, right? He didn't do anything wrong, so he should-"

The Reaper holds up a hand in silence.

"Relax, will you? You already saved him, so it's too late to take him now. The issue here, is you."

"Me?"

"You broke your end of our deal, FP. You didn't take the souls you were supposed to take. I'm afraid…I have to take your immortality."

Arthur nods, biting his lip.

"I knew that already. I told you, I'm prepared to die."

Death laughs again.

"Die? Who said anything about dying? You Englishmen and your focus on death. It's hilarious, really. No, FP, you never lived a full life anyway. I took you as an immortal before you died in your human life, remember?"

Arthur's eyes grow wide once more.

"You…crazy bastard…"

"I owe you one for doing my job for so long without bitching about it, but I still have my price of course. You have to give me your immortality, and Alfred has to give me something too."

"…Alfred didn't do anything!"

"He did. You involved him by saving him, and he knows more than enough just from being able to see you. So, let's resolve this, shall we?"

* * *

It was dark outside now, and the hospital room was quiet. Alfred had hidden as best he could in the spot where Arthur left him, and a medic had gotten him soon after and flew him to the nearest hospital.

He was watching his heart monitor with a lack of interest, the ups and downs bothering him with the constant beeping.

His leg had to have stitches, and it was burning feebly. He didn't care anymore. He really didn't.

The room was too quiet. He missed having people around him. His fellow soldiers, his commanding officers…his lover…

He missed the British accent the most. Calling him a git, telling him he loved him…saying he was perfect.

Alfred brushes a hand under his eye, catching a stray tear.

There are footsteps down the hall, probably a visitor for the person next door.

They draw closer, and closer, and he almost doesn't believe when they stop outside his door.

He looks toward the noise, and hold his breath when the door swings open quietly.

There, standing in the doorway, is Arthur Kirkland, as alive as he ever was.

"Arthur!" Alfred yelps, trying to jump up to greet the man. Arthur hurries over and holds him down, careful to avoid touching his hurt leg.

"Easy, you bloody fool! You're injured!"

"You… You're human! I mean, you were always human, but now you're really human! Alive! How did you- I thought you were dead! Well, for real dead! Not dead like you were but dead dead!"

Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose and holds his other hand up for silence.

"I'll explain it all another time, alright? Right now… I need to tell you something. Death took something from me to make me live again, Al. He's going to take something from you too."

"…What's he taking?"

"Firstly, your ability to see and talk to the afterlife."

Alfred's blue eyes grow wide.

"That's…okay, I guess. I don't need it as long as I have you."

Arthur grabs his hand and squeezes it tightly.

"Next…your leg is going to get you sent home, love. Your part of the war is over, and you're not going to gain your hero status."

The hand holding his goes limp.

"I… I can't be a hero?"

"If you don't want to give it up, I understand completely. I'll be here with you tonight, and then go back with the Reaper tomorrow."

"Are you crazy? No way!"

Arthur simply stares at him, lost for words.

"I… I know I said that's what I wanted but…it's not anymore…"

"Explain that, please."

"What makes a true hero…is being there for somewhere who truly needs one… My dad said that a lot… And I… I don't want to be anyone else's hero…as long as I can be yours, Arthur…"

The Englishman releases the American's hand and pulls him into a hug, never wanting to let him go. Alfred holds him back just as tightly, both of them fighting tears.

"S-So…you never told me…how are you alive now…?"

"Heh. It's all thanks to someone who…was _awesome _for once. We'll leave it at that for now."

_[We live on front porches and swing life away. We get by just fine here on minimum wage. If love is a labor, I'll slave till the end. I won't cross these streets until you hold my hand. Swing life away. Swing life away. Swing life away, swing life away.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: Whooo, one more left guys! _

_ America: Wait…if we're both alive now…does that mean…_

_ England: *grins*_

_ Sachi: Next chapter is open to…some lemon… *cough*_

_ America: D:_

_ England: FINALLY!_

_ Sachi: Review for love! I promise to update faster! I love you all! Can anyone guess what __**awesome**__ Hetalia character Death was~?_


	15. Chapter 15

_Hello my lovelies! It's finally time! This is the last chapter of my first Hetalia story! *sniff* I really did enjoy writing it, because I love both Hetalia and history. I know most of you were probably expecting a different ending, but there is a reason, which I will explain a bit later. For now, let's get started!__ Kairichin__, yes, the awesome Prussia is the Reaper! __Guest 1__, aw, thank you! I love Prussia too!__ luckycat222__, those were song lyrics at the top! I highly recommend listening to the songs while reading the chapters! __Ember Hinote__, Prussia took England's immortality. He's 23, and human. __Hikari Bara__, thank you for reading! I'm glad you like it so much! I couldn't resist adding Prussia! __Shite Anonym__, Figgy pudding is pudding made from figs, haha. __kokichi__, I will write more for Hetalia! Don't be sad! __Rebel Lenses__, you're welcome, my lovely! __Kit-Usa__, hehehe, AWESOME PRUSSIA! __darkestlight96__, I love him too! __ncalkins__, he is the awesome Prussia! Not a two bit player like France! __Quiet. Crash__, awww, glad I could spread the UKUS love! __Pennilee__, …I don't see what's not to get, haha. It means just what it says. __Casey Hence__, YOU AMAZING REVIEWER YOU! __ZillaMeister__, glad you liked my A/N. I tend to make things overly dramatic. __tetris__, ah, okay. I like getting to know reviewers in person, so thanks for signing a name! __adorableness__, you can…get a free ice cream cone! __darkingflame__, everything ends, my love. __Lady Shadow 77__, it is Prussia! Aw, I love you! __Atemxyugi kfXjinx__, what a strange review! Haha, poor Prussia. You and England really did a number on him. Now, it's time for the final chapter of Counting Bodies Like Sheep. On with the story!_

* * *

_Pet_

_(A Perfect Circle)_

_[Don't fret precious, I'm here. Step away from the window. Go back to sleep… Lay your head down child, I won't let the Boogey Man come. Counting bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums. Pay no mind to the rabble, pay no mind to the rabble. Head down, go to sleep to the rhythm of the war drums.]_

Life, as it turns out, is a big transition.

Arthur spent so long without feeling anything, and feeling the air on his face again was mind blowing, in its own way.

He knew Death had planned it this way. Being around for all eternity really must have given the bastard time to meddle in everyone's lives. But still, Arthur was forever indebted to him.

The Reaper had given him an appreciation for life, something he had never had before.

In his youth, he was simply too afraid to die, to face the unknown. He was afraid of losing himself, and becoming one with an unknown void.

Now, it's different. He lives because he truly wants to, and death is no longer scary. Hell, he knows who will come to collect him and Alfred one day. And it'll be a sight to behold.

The American is still healing from his wounds. He had to have surgery to remove the shrapnel from his leg once he was returned to the States. Arthur went with him, of course.

The Brit can tell you one thing for certain.

Life in America is something else entirely.

He watched Alfred eat his weight in junk food, watched the people on the streets, welcoming their soldiers home with open arms.

There were parades thrown, television announcements, the President himself giving the men honorary medals.

Alfred had missed the ceremony, but his commanding officer hand delivered his Purple Heart to his and Arthur's new house.

Yes, they lived together.

As said, it took time for Alfred to heal, and he obviously couldn't live alone. The American had to deal with a mild infection from the wound as well.

It had been seven months, and he was just now able to move freely again.

When asked, Alfred would always say it was worth leaving the war.

"My brothers in arms handled it well enough without me," he would say with a smile. Arthur always doubted these words, knowing full well the man desired nothing more than to help his country.

Then, images were released of the imprisoned Jews, and countless others in the concentration camps. Arthur watched as Alfred saw the images on the screen of soldiers liberating the prisoners. His blue eyes were wide, and he had brought his hands to his face, wiping tears away.

"Are you alright, love?" Arthur had asked.

"That's what you were seeing that whole time? That's what had you so afraid?"

"…Yes…"

Alfred had then thrusted himself in the Brit's arms, severely testing Arthur's self-control.

While the American didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, everyday was a challenge for Arthur. He promised himself he wouldn't try anything until the younger man was ready.

And when that didn't seem to be happening, he changed his plan to at least waiting until the man's leg was healed. It seemed to be the best option.

The war was still going on, but Germany was out of the picture. They surrendered unconditionally when Adolf Hitler committed suicide in his bunker.

How Arthur would have loved to take that soul.

The Allied forces were still at war with Japan, and would be for a while yet.

In present, the two were curled on their couch, watching the television screen. It was a ridiculous scary movie, entirely in black and white.

The television still wasn't something Arthur was entirely familiar with. He would stare in awe at the screen, not even paying attention to the images playing. Alfred would usually laugh at him, calling him an old man.

As is, the American isn't saying anything. He's curled into a ball, one hand gripping his lover's shirt. Half his face is hidden, and he's watching the movie with one eye open.

"You're being entirely ridiculous, you know. It's just a movie, nothing special. How many times have you told me that?" Arthur laughs.

"Shut up! It's scary!"

"…That monster is obviously an action figure on a string, Al."

"It's s-s-scary!"

Arthur sighs, getting comfortable on the couch. He looks around their small space, amazed at all the new things around him. They were living quite comfortably on Alfred's Army salary. In fact, neither man would have to work for quite a while.

But Arthur still wanted to try and find a job. He wanted to pull his own weight. Of course, it would be next to impossible since he was technically an illegal immigrant. Alfred had told him they could claim he lost his papers on the way to the States, but that seemed to be a stupid plan. How would he prove he existed in London? He hasn't technically been alive since the 1300's.

Alfred told him not to worry about it, but it seemed to be something that _needed _to be worried about. This was their future. Is he couldn't get a job, how could he help support them?

"AHHH!" a sudden scream shattered his thoughts, and he looked over in time to see the younger male throw himself in his lap.

"Al! What the bloody hell are you doing?!"

"It jumped at me! I saw it stare into my soul!"

"It's an action figure!"

"A scary one!"

"Uggghhhhh. I'm going to make tea."

"We drink coffee here."

"_I _drink tea!"

Alfred only laughs, which is replaced by another squeak when Arthur tries to leave the couch.

"Hey! W-Where are you going?!"

"I already told you! I'm making tea!"

"Don't leave me here with the monster!"

Arthur allows himself to be pulled back down by the strong male, and he gives into the idiot crawling into his lap again.

"You're hopeless, Al."

"Shut up!"

The sandy blonde's cowlick is tickling under Arthur's chin. He tries to blow it away, but as always, it snaps back in place. He gives up, and settles on trying to at least comb it down by raking his fingers through the younger man's hair.

His fingernails graze Alfred's scalp, who goes rigid in his grasp. The American makes a slight purring noise as the fingers in his hair begin to tug.

"Does that feel good, Al?" Arthur asks, his mouth going dry at the noises.

"Mm-hmm…"

"How…does your leg feel today?"

"Good. Doc says I can probably take the last bandages off in a week or so. It just…stings every now and then, but…that'll probably last forever..."

"Not what I was hoping to hear, but good enough," Arthur says, flipping the man off his lap and pinning him into the cushions.

"Arthur?"

The American is silenced by the Brit's mouth on his. The kiss quickly becomes heated, and the younger man gasps when he feels a hand enter his shirt.

"Arthur!"

"Do you have any idea what it's like to be beside you and not be able to do this?" the ex-Reaper asks, his fingers pinching Alfred's nipples.

"A-Aah… Y-You wanted…to do this?"

"Mmm, so bad, Al…"

The sandy blonde's arms wrap around Arthur's neck, and pull the man closer. Their lips meet once more, this time, their mouths opening.

When their tongues meet, the American moans quietly, his body going entirely limp on the couch cushions. When they part, he's panting and flushed, looking like he just ran a mile.

"My God, Al… You're so damn beautiful…" Arthur says, his hands unbuttoning the white shirt Alfred is wearing. Slowly, the fabric is removed, and the Englishman can see the perfect chest underneath.

"A-Arthur…"

"Shhhh, let me take care of you, alright? I'll make you feel good."

Alfred nods, turning his head to the side in an attempt to hide his face as he feels a tongue on his chest.

"Mmm…mmnnn…" he groans, biting his lip.

"Stop trying to be quiet. I want to hear you, Al."

"N-No wa-aaahhh…"

Arthur grazes his teeth over the idiot's nipple before he abuses it with his tongue, his hand pinching the other one. He can feel Alfred's arousal pressing against his chest.

"Are you already so turned on, love? My, my, it must not have been only me wanting this…"

There is no response, only panting. Arthur smiles and moves back up to his love's face, forcing their gazes to meet.

"I don't want you to be afraid. I'm not going to be able to do everything I want, because you're still hurt…but I can give us both what we need."

"W-What…are you going to do…?" the American asks quietly.

"Trust me."

The ex-Reaper's hands move down to Alfred's pants, and he unzips them, slowly pulling them down. The sandy blonde gasps when he feels his boxers lowered too, and his member is exposed to the colder air of their home.

"A-Arthur…"

To his surprise, Arthur undoes his own pants and settles on top of him again, aligning their bodies.

"What are you doing?"

"I told you to trust me, stupid."

"I'm not stup- Nnnnn!"

Arthur grinds down, slamming their arousals together. Both men moan blissfully at the added friction, and the Englishman laughs at the American's hands gripping the couch cushions.

"Feels better now?"

"F-Feels…so good…"

Arthur snarls slightly, riding down even more harshly, turning the sandy blonde's brain even more to mush. He's startled to feel Alfred's legs wrap around his waist, giving them more leverage.

"Finally getting bold, are we?"

"S-Shut up… Do it harder…before my leg starts to hurt from this…"

The couch springs squeak in protest as Arthur does just that, gaining speed as they move together. The room is filled with breathless gasps, hungry moans, and pleasured haze. The ex-Reaper's eyes open when hands grip his face.

Alfred's eyes are clouded with lust, and his face is flushed pink. He gives Arthur a small smile, his fingers caressing the white skin of the man's face.

"So beautiful…" Arthur hisses, slamming their mouths together again. They greedily swallow each other's moans as they speed up once more.

Alfred finishes first, emitting a small squeak and shaking suddenly under the older man. Arthur follows quickly after, falling against the American and kissing his neck. Their hands grip each other, and their fingers entwine as they both fight to catch their breath.

"That…was…_awesome_…" Alfred grins, still panting.

"Please don't ever use that word… Bad…memories…"

The movie is still playing, and they look over just in time to see a woman being eaten by the action figure monster.

"Holy fuck! Did you see that?!"

"Ugh, now I _really _need tea…"

Thankfully, a commercial comes on and he's able to leave the couch and put a pot of tea on the stove. When he returns, Alfred is sitting up, fully dressed again, already trying to hide from the monster behind his hands.

"You _are _aware it's still a commercial. The movie isn't even on yet!"

"Yeah, but it can jump out at any time!"

Shaking his head, he joins the git on the couch, waiting for his tea to boil.

"I was thinking…we could go to London when my leg is healed… You know, visit…"

Arthur looks at him in surprise.

"What did you say?"

"Well…all the times before you were working…and I couldn't explore like I wanted to under orders… I'd love to see the city…rebuilt."

The golden blonde smiles warmly at him.

"I'd love to show you my home, Al."

"Then we'll go…"

They share a quick kiss, before the music gets dramatic in the background, and Alfred goes back to trying to morph with the couch.

The kettle begins to scream, signaling the tea is ready. As Arthur goes to fetch it, he can't help but be grateful for the way things turned out.

Death offered to erase his memories along with his immortality. He had said it would relieve him from the screams that would surely plague his dreams.

"You've seen more than any human ever has," he had laughed. "I can take it all away."

Arthur had declined of course. While it would have been nice to forget everything he saw, he didn't want to risk forgetting the events that made him the man he currently was.

Besides, the screams had long since stopped.

Alfred is his remedy, even now.

_[Pay no mind what other voices say. They don't care about you, like I do. Safe from pain, and truth, and choice, and other poison devils. See, they don't give a fuck about you, like I do. Just stay with me, safe and ignorant. Go back to sleep, go back to sleep. Lay your head down child, I won't let the Boogey Man come. Counting bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums. Pay no mind to the rabble, pay no mind to the rabble. Head down, go to sleep, to the rhythm of the war drums.]_

_**The End~**_

* * *

_ Sachi: Whoo! Finished!_

_ England: Why was there not a full lemon?!_

_ Sachi: Ah, I decided this story is better without it. I know a few of you will be upset, but it didn't seem to fit this story to add one. _

_ America: What were you saying earlier about the happy ending?_

_ Sachi: Ah, thanks, Al! I am writing another UKUS story to be posted soon enough. It is going to be an incredibly dark story, more than anything I've ever written for this site, and I wanted to give you a happy ending before I start it. The story will be called 'Devour' so keep an eye out for it!_

_ England: Review the final chapter and receive all of our love!_

_ America: Love me the most!_

_Prussia: Fuck no! Love me the most! I'm awesome Prussia!_

_ Sachi: Until we meet again, my lovelies! Thank you for all the reviews and support! This was my first Hetalia fic, and you all made me feel so welcome in the fandom! Hope to hear from you all in my new story! Love you all!_


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